


The Scarlet Society

by goldendaysdebonair



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 16:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldendaysdebonair/pseuds/goldendaysdebonair
Summary: Brendon Urie is sent off to a high class private college called Hawking Academy upon his mother and father's demand for him to shape up. It's the last place he wants to be, but he must tolerate the boring classes and spoiled rich kids. He quickly finds out that this school holds a secret (rather deadly) club and one member in particular catches his eye.





	1. A Secret Notoriety

Four years down, and another four to go. I sigh, turning off the ignition to my car.  
I take out my phone and look at the new message from my father ‘Good luck, son.’ glows on my screen. I reply with ‘Thanks’ before rummaging through the back seat for my bags.  
Hawking Academy… the name in and of itself seems terribly sophisticated. Buying a whole new wardrobe just for the sake of going to this school gives me a headache. The clouds hang low as a light fog rolls through the campus. The perfect illustration of my mood, I think, as I attempt to look for the front office.  
I manage to find a sign plastered on one of the shorter type buildings. Stepping in the room, I can’t help but let my eyes wander. Somehow, I underestimate the grandiosity and spaciousness of the area. The ceiling is tall and the walls have imprinted small patterns throughout. Before I can even register it, I just about bump into the front desk. An older looking woman with small glasses is presented in front of me.  
I clear my throat before saying, “Hi, I’m a new student. Urie comma Brendon.”  
She looks puzzled for a brief second. Her expression softens before she puts on a friendly face, “Urie… Brendon….” She says, now scrolling through the files on her computer.  
Always best to ease the embarrassment and anxiety by getting straight to the point.  
The noise of a printer is heard as my schedule currently prints. I tap my fingers on the table absentmindedly as my attention is back to the surroundings. Most of the budget must have gone into the architecture as opposed to the books.  
“Here is your schedule, Brendon Urie.” The woman says. I quickly take the papers along with a key from her. “Welcome to Hawking Academy.”  
I give her a nod before heading out the door. First interaction of the year, not too bad, although she isn’t a student. The air smells of pretentious high class assholes. I look on the map to find where my dorm room is, and thankfully, I don’t have to walk far into one of the larger corresponding buildings. I walk in only a few feet before turning to the left and finding the correct room number. I unlock the door and peer into the empty room. The walls are white and, once again, subtly patterned. There’s a tv, two beds, some drawers, and a small bathroom in the corner. Another sigh escapes my lips… a roommate. Oh joy. Before yet another feeling of displeasure washes over me, I take the bed on the far right and toss my bags to the corner of the room. I lay my body against the surprisingly soft mattress as I close my eyes. A brief nap would do me good considering the hours it took to get here.  
Before I could slip into a dream, I hear the door knob rattle. My eyes shoot open as I quickly adjust myself to sit up. I look towards who I assume to be my new roommate stepping into the room.  
“Hello,” The tall man says as he places his books on the top of his bedside drawer.  
“Hi…” I pause, just staring at the guy. He’s finely dressed in black pants and a white polo shirt. He looks over to me, and shit, he’s handsome, “I’m Brendon.”  
“Dallon.” He says. A subtle smile perks up on his lips.  
I avert my gaze, kicking myself internally. Avoiding embarrassment in front of attractive people is something near impossible for me. My eyes fall upon a bottle opener on the counter placed between the beds.  
I pick it up and say, “This yours?”  
“Oh, no it’s not. It belonged to the previous roommate.” Dallon’s voice is gentle yet monotone.  
“What happened to that guy?” I ask, fairly confused as to anyone who just leaves something behind.  
“Let’s just say he got into an accident and, unfortunately, lost his life.”  
I swallow hard, feeling intimidated rather than aroused. I set back down the bottle opener.  
I say, “That’s terrible.”  
Dallon replies, “Do you believe in karma, Brendon?” his expression is cold and serious now.  
“Sometimes.” I reply.  
“He had what was coming to him.” Dallon says, going through his drawer and taking out a red letterman jacket.  
It’s like this fucker is trying to scare me. Now, I expect to feel like an outcast in a place like this. I expect to meet people who will get under my skin. I did not, however, expect to be rooming with a potential psycho  
“Well, uh, I’m just going to unpack before class starts.” I say, moving slowly off the bed.  
“Need help with that?” He asks, changing his tone to be a little more lively.  
His generosity catches me off guard, “Uh, no it’s fine. I got it.” I swing one of the bags on top of the bed.  
“Do you mind?” He asks as I see him pick up my schedule.  
“No.” I reply. I go back to rummaging through my stuff.  
After a while, he says, “We have some of the same classes. I can show you to them.”  
“Oh, okay thanks.” I say. The mixed signals from this guy have my head spinning. First he’s fairly mysterious, then he gets scary, and now he’s trying to be generous? Time to just say ‘Fuck it.’ and expect nothing but decently sane interactions until he becomes compelled to chop my head off.  
While I continue to put things away, Dallon just sits there on his phone. Every once and awhile I can feel his eyes on me, but I try my best to pay no attention to it. The final item I take out of my bag is my journal. I always thought it was a girly thing to keep some type of diary, but I needed one halfway through junior year because of everything I was going through. The school counselor encouraged getting out thoughts and feelings through writing, and even though I had tried to resist, I found myself just doing it and realizing how therapeutic it really was.  
I place it on the bottom of one of the drawers as I get my items for the first few classes. The bell rings and Dallon looks back over to me, “Ready to go?” He asks.  
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I reply following Dallon’s lead out the door.  
The first class is statistics. One of my worst subjects. The room itself, once again, catches me off guard. It’s an amphitheatre with rich red wooden walls along with lighter tan wooden desks. The front of the room contains a large chalkboard along with a professor that looks seemingly young. Dallon taps me on the shoulder and directs me to a sign in booklet. Ah yes, the best way to hope your students show up without actually calling out their names. I already start planning days where I’ll skip out on class. The risk of my parents killing me would be very high if I did get a grade lower than a C along with absentee records, but I can continue my rebellion all I want. Wherever the fuck they got the money to send me here might just get wasted, but oh well.  
As soon as the hour and a half is up, I quickly pop out of my seat and head out the door. I wait for Dallon as I glance at the other individuals before him. Two students in particular catch my eye wearing the same jacket as Dallon.  
As soon as the taller man walks out, I say, “Hey, I just saw a couple people with the same jacket as you. Guess you guys shop at the same place, huh?” I joke.  
“They’re a part of the club I’m in.” He says cooly.  
“What kind of club is that?” I ask as he motions for us to keep walking to the next class.  
“A fairly new one. The leader of the club recruited me last year. We became pretty quick friends.”  
“Didn’t really answer my question.” I say, trying not to sound too bitchy about the obvious.  
“You might find out in due time. It’s a secret type of club.” He says.  
“Not secret enough to avoid parading it around with bright red jackets that stick out like a sore thumb.” I say, looking in his direction.  
He glares at me and I avert my gaze. In this moment I wish I didn’t spontaneously speak my mind.  
“We like to be noted, but generally not known of. I’d like to think there’s an underlying notoriety about us.”  
Officially adding ‘cryptic’ to my roommate's personality checklist. I just nod in response as any further questions just come to a stand still. We get to the next class which is English. Here’s a subject I definitely won’t try to fail in. Dallon and I sign in and we take our seats on the opposite side of the entrance a few rows from the front. The bell rings so I turn my attention to the front of the class as the professor greets us. A red Letterman jacket catches my attention by the door as a late student starts to sign in. I take in his profile and damn… he’s gorgeous. When he turns around, I notice there’s roses sewn into the jacket. I glance back up to his face noting his lengthy brown fringe swept across his eyes.  
I keep looking at him as he takes a seat towards the middle of the room. I want to ask Dallon about him, but the class begins. Throughout the period, I can’t help but sneak glances in the boy’s direction.  
By the time the period ends, I take my time getting up from my seat. I look at Dallon who is in the middle of collecting his stuff.  
“The guy with the brown fringe, is he a part of your group? Dumb question, I mean he does have the jacket, but it’s kinda different, you know?”  
“He’s the leader, Ryan Ross. Speaking of, this next period I have off for the club. I’ll meet back up with you for lunch near the science wing.”  
“Okay.” I reply. Ryan… the name suits him well.  
My next class is music history. So glad for something that actually interests me, and thankfully my parents were lenient about my electives. I did grow up in a musical household as much as my parents pushed for something more practical in terms of a career. The class goes by smoothly, but my mind wouldn’t stop falling back to Ryan. Like, goddamn, is everyone attractive in this club?  
When the bell rings, I take my time gathering my stuff. All of the sudden, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a guy with a short black fringe. He’s a bit shorter than me and he’s prominently dressed in black.  
He says, “Is your roommate Dallon by chance?”  
Who the hell is this guy, my stalker? I hesitate to answer for a second, “Yeah… you know that how?”  
“I just saw you two walking, sorry, my name’s Pete.” He sticks out his hand.  
Reluctantly, I shake his hand. This school isn’t filled with assholes, it’s filled with weirdos. I say, “I’m Brendon.”  
“You’re new, right?” Pete says.  
He’s putting a question to everything as if he’s not sure. He’s totally sure, and I’ve been creeped out for long enough.  
“Yeah I am, and what do you know, it’s lunch. I should go.”  
“Wait.” He says, putting on a desperate demeanor before grabbing my shoulder, “You can’t trust him.”  
I shake my head in confusion, “What?”  
Pete leans in closer to me, lowering his voice, “He’s not a good person. Keep your guard up. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m always in the library before first period starts.”  
“Okay.” I reply, trying to process this information.  
He pats my shoulder before leaving the room and I can’t help but pause. So Dallon was most likely a threat to people’s lives. Great. It’s even more strange now knowing that he’s being nice. As soon as I get out of the class, I can see Dallon by the science wing where he said he’d be. Pete’s words fall to the back of my brain as the taller man greets me with a small nod and light smile.  
“You can sit with me today. Everyone at the table will be a part of the club. You don’t have to feel like an outsider with us, at least not completely.” He says.  
“Alright.” I reply. There’s a giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing that Ryan would most likely be there.  
We walk across the campus and come up to a long table a fair distance away from the food court. Five men with red matching letterman jackets, and very unique features compared to the other students, sit around each other eating their lunch. The closer we got, the more each one of them began to notice our presence.  
“Everyone, this is Brendon, my new roommate.” Dallon says to the group.  
Two of them nod and briefly say hello while the other two stare for a moment. The one who doesn’t look in my direction is Ryan. It isn’t difficult to tell it’s him from the color of his hair. I sit next to Dallon who sits next to Ryan.  
Dallon begins to introduce everyone sitting around the table, “Across the table on the far left is Gerard and next to him is Frank.” he starts.  
Gerard is pale with medium length black hair. He has a lengthy scar on his lip along with a small one on the side of his eyebrow and one final one following his cheek bone. Frank’s hair is black; cut in a mohawk style laid down flat.  
“Next to them is Tyler and Josh.” Dallon continues.  
Tyler’s head is completely shaven down while Josh’s hair is curly, black, and similarly cut to Frank’s.  
“Last but not least, next to me is Ryan, the leader of the club.” Dallon finishes shifting his body slightly back so I could have a better look at him. Ryan looks at me and gives me a small nod. His eyes are so pretty…  
“Nice to meet you guys.” I say with a nervous smile.  
“So, what landed you in a school like this?” Gerard asks.  
“Oh, my parents sent me here so I could straighten out and get my shit together. They found out I had done and sold drugs, liked both sexes, and didn’t believe in God.”  
“Strict parents are the worst.” Frank comments, “You’re living life the way you want. No harm in that.”  
“Yeah, exactly!” I say. This small conversation alone makes me feel a bit more comfortable around these guys. And to think Gerard and Frank were intimidating.  
After a few more comments back and forth, my mind falls back to how much of an outsider I still am, “So, this club. I know it’s a bit of a secret, but I mean, just sitting with you guys makes me feel like I’m a part of it, you know? I’m one guy, I wouldn’t…” My voice goes quieter, “Say anything. I’m pretty curious.”  
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Ryan starts, sizing me up, “but since you’re roommates with Dallon, you might look good in red.”  
His voice sends a shiver up my spine. I can feel some sort of knot in my stomach when our eyes lock for a bit longer than expected. That eagerness digs in my chest, and I could care less about what could go on in this club. I just want to get closer to Ryan. There’s a shroud of mystery and a hint of sex appeal. Dallon may have exuded similar attributes, but the brown haired boy didn’t scare me off in the least bit.  
I let out a small laugh and avert my gaze, “Well, I hope so.” I say softly.  
After lunch ends, I continue to walk with Dallon to some sort of philosophy class. I say, “Pretty cool knowing me as your roomie pretty much guarantees that I’ll be in the club!”  
“Not so fast.” Dallon says, tugging at my polo shirt to slow me down.  
I stop as he steps in front of me, “Keep your eagerness under wraps for now, alright? Take the information as it comes. You could be jumping into something you don’t want.”  
“You’re stringing me along, I can tell! I’m totally in, man.” I say matter-of-factly amongst my enthusiasm.  
“We’ll see.” He says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, “No more talk about it, or you might have to sleep with one eye open. This club is more serious than you think.”  
I swallow hard. Maybe I should know what it’s all about, and I have a pretty good idea of who I could go to for answers...


	2. Wishful Thinking

It’s the next morning as I wake up bright and early to the buzz of my phone’s alarm under my pillow. After brisky shutting it off, I turn over to see if Dallon is still asleep. His back is facing me, so unfortunately, I can’t tell. I get up as quiet as I can, slipping into my pants and throwing on a shirt. After I put on my shoes, I walk to the door and carefully open it. My eyes glance in Dallon’s direction and, thank the fucking lord, he’s still asleep.  
As I walk to the library I think, sure, it seems pretty ridiculous that I’m treating this like some spy operation, but Dallon kept me in his sights for the rest of the day yesterday and even tried to ask me questions. Personal shit. All whilst looking like he could snap my neck if I said something wrong. Course that could have been my anxiety talking since Pete’s words seeped back into my brain.  
I open the tall glass door and walk inside the library. Once again, it’s fancy as hell. I look around the room and there’s several rows of tables sitting in the center before the endless rows of bookshelves expand towards the left. There aren’t many students around so I spot Pete near the back of the room. I walk over to his table and sit on the opposite side facing him.  
He looks up from his work, slightly startled by my presence, “Hey Brendon-”  
“Tell me about the club.” I say.  
“Whoa, keep it down,” Pete says, lowering his voice while hunching over the table to get closer to me.  
I move in closer as well, beginning to feel a bit giddy.  
Pete continues, “We can’t talk about it here, okay?”  
“Okay.” I nod.  
Pete closes his book before standing up. I follow suit. Before we leave, a boy wearing a hat with blonde lengthy sideburns walks over. He looks at me for a moment before turning to Pete. Pete tells him he’ll be right back before signaling me to follow him. We head out past the quad and eventually loop around to the outside of the school’s perimeters near the parking lot.  
Pete faces me, taking a deep breath, “You want to know the truth, but I’m warning you, it might be difficult to handle.”  
I cross my arms, “I can handle a lot. Surprise me.”  
He steps closer to me, “You should take this seriously. Hell, I don’t even want to say anything, but it would be a bigger risk if you keep prying anywhere else.”  
“I wouldn’t do that, I’m not stupid.” I say, a bit quieter this time.  
“Right, well I’m not gonna get mad at you for wondering. Just, don’t take this lightly.”  
“Okay. So, what’s so special about this club?” I say, feeling impatient.  
Pete takes another long breath, “The club- it’s a kill club. They’ve all taken lives. Dallon is taking interest in you because you’re his roommate, and as of late, they’ve been trying to force people in.”  
My chest feels heavy, “Holy shit.”  
Pete says, “There isn’t gonna be an easy way for me to get you out of this.”  
“When did this club even happen?” I ask  
“Well, the school was formed in the late 1800s,” Pete starts, “a few average years went by until the headmaster’s son killed someone. A group of students were forced into cleaning up the mess, but they were chosen rather specifically. They were either close to dropping out or were considered the misfits of the campus. This was all done under the headmaster’s orders. This ultimately formed a kill club called The Scarlet Society.”  
“That’s fucked.” I say.  
“Yeah, but after the headmaster died, the club had reached certain compromises and they had to become a bit more secretive. Eventually, the club started to dwindle and the organization wasn’t up to par. Some people left, got killed, or killed themselves. The club soon enough ended after all the sketchy years of fucked up students trying to keep it alive and failing. It wasn’t till last year when a new headmaster and his son got onto campus.”  
“The son being?” I ask.  
“Ryan Ross.” He replies.  
Well shit.  
“He dug into the history of the school somehow and managed to restart The Scarlet Society. He lets like-minded folk in, but recently he’s been forcing people in, like I said. You’re in or you’re dead regardless of which way you slice it. Given it’s only been a year, you’d think he wouldn’t push for more members. And with the actual acts of murder today, it’s been tricky for them with the campus police, plus the question of whether or not the Headmaster knows. Ryan claimed he scared his father into letting him do the things he does, but he can boast.”  
“Pete, how the hell do you know all this?” I question, still trying to process all of what he just said.  
“I used to be in the club.” He says.  
“What?” I exclaim, “How the fuck-”  
Pete shushes me and I take a second to recollect my thoughts.  
I continue, “You said you’re either in or you’re dead. How the fuck are you still standing here?”  
Pete looks to the floor and rubs his neck, “That’s a story for another day.”  
“God.” I rub my temples, “This is…”  
“Insane.” Pete replies.  
“Yeah, pretty fucking much! So Dallon did most likely kill his roommate, that’s fucking delightful.” I say sarcastically.  
“It’s a lot, but now you know. The best thing you can do is distance yourself. If they attempt to coerce you anymore, just ignore it. Decline their offers. At some point, you may be able to switch dorms. To be frank, an escape plan is a long shot, but I’m willing to help as much as I can.”  
“Did you try to help Dallon’s previous roommate?” I ask. And I can tell what his answer will be. Somehow, I want the reassurance of failure.  
Pete nods with a sad look in his eyes, “It’s not easy, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try. And if you want to keep your sanity and your life in check, you’ll help yourself as well.”  
“Well, I can’t promise you shit.” I say honestly.  
“Brendon, c’mon-”  
“You can’t promise my life, like, what the fuck. You believe that they’ll let me go? You just told me they’ve never done that.”  
“If you don’t try to step right in, there’s a chance they’ll back off. Okay, I swear I’ll fucking figure something out. Just, try for a while at least.” Pete’s eyes are pleading.  
“Okay.” I say with an inevitable nervous tone.  
Pete tells me he needs to finish his work as he heads back to the library. I slowly start to walk back to the dorm.  
I check my phone and there’s 20 minutes before the first class. I gnaw at my bottom lip as I slowly open the door. Dallon is absent from his bed as I hear the shower running in the bathroom. Fuck, he knows I left. I go over and sit on my bed. All of Pete’s words are hammering against my skull. My body starts to feel tense as I grip the edge of the mattress. My breathing starts to pick up and I begin to feel warm. I close my eyes and attempt to bring my breathing down. I reach towards the mini shelf and bring out my journal. 

_Entry 1 ___  
_In the case of a potential panic attack, here are my words messily written across this page in an attempt to cease my anxiety. Fuck me, fuck my life, and fuck this school. My roomie is a fucking psychopath, there’s a fucking club filled with murderers, what the fuck. It’s only day one and here I am stuck in one hell of a situation. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I could listen to Pete and not say shit. How well could that turn out? Dallon will kill me. Right, pessimism shouldn’t be a thing. My father is a realist and my mother is an optimist. The best excuse is I’m still going through the phase in my life where I jam to Sunny Day Real Estate, sweep my bangs across my forehead, and contemplate death. There’s a sprinkle of angsty poetry here and there with the resonance of rebellion. It’s gloomy all day everyday even when the sun is out._  


____________The door of the bathroom opens and Dallon walks out with wet hair in a pair of boxers. My eyes cast up and down his body for a second before I say, “Hey roomie. Dallon.” “Brendon.” He says, walking over to his bed before sitting down and going through his drawers.  
Before I continue writing, he says, “You went out this morning.”  
“Yeah, I’m a real morning person. Just wanted to walk around for a bit.” I lie.  
“Oh.” He finishes.  
I go back to writing.  


_____________Somehow glancing at my almost naked psychopath roommate further helped diminish my potential panic attack. Weird. Ryan is crossing my mind again. If I did resist this, I wouldn’t get to talk with him. Granted, he kills people, but… that couldn’t just be it, he’s human. Here I am trying to be a wishful thinker and weighing my options against Pete’s plea to keep me sane. My father always told me that if I want something, I should try to get it. I haven’t seen the blood on their hands yet, and who knows if I’m totally sane. I used to laugh at people dying in horror movies when I was a kid, that has to be fucked, right? I’m not going to force myself into something dark like this, in fact there’s a side of me that’s terrified. Still, if I set a goal that isn’t completely crazy, that could ease my thoughts through this. Ryan, my goal is Ryan. This pursuit is so out of my league, but what’s fucking new. I’m not going to run. Pete must be wrong in some ways, and I’d rather pull off the bandaid now. ___  


____________I close my mind and let my voice take over, “Dallon, when do I join The Scarlet Society?”  
He turns around and looks at me with a fairly surprised expression, “How did…” he pauses, “Soon. Very soon.”  
I nod in response, and that’s all I can do. My heart won’t stop pounding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FORMATTING IS WEIRD AND THAT TOOK WAY TOO MUCH EFFORT.


	3. Impulse

Dallon doesn’t say anything during the first two periods. And I guess I can’t say anything either. What’s done is done and pestering is useless. Still, I have moments where I want to say something just to break the silence. It’s weird, and it makes the whole thing too real. Dallon surprisingly isn’t keeping me on a leash today, which is convenient in many regards. Before lunch starts, I make the decision to seek out Pete to let him know that I fucked up our agreement. If he wants to never speak to me again… well… I guess I would deserve it.  
The bell rings. I rush out of class and make it to the quad. I look around and spot a bench nearly isolated from the other tables. Pete’s there by himself, and frankly, I would call him a loner if it wasn’t for the guy in the hat that seems to be his friend. My fast pace ceases as I approach him.  
I say, “Pete, I gotta tell you something.”  
“What’s up?” He says with a bit of concern in his eyes.  
Anxiety is nipping at my heels as guilt begins to wash over me, “I fucking did it, dude.”  
“Did what?” Pete asks, rightfully confused.  
“I mentioned the club’s name to Dallon, I invited myself in.” I harshly bite my bottom lip.  
Pete stands up, “Brendon, what the fuck? At this point, I can’t do much help.”  
“You don’t have to do anything, dude, I fucking know what I’m doing.”  
“Are you sure about that? Or were you just scared and felt like this would be an inevitable thing?” He asks.  
“Fucking both, I don’t know.” I shake my head. My hands roughly comb through my hair, I’m tense as hell.  
Pete puts a hand on my shoulder, “I wish you just waited, dude. Whether this was impulse or on purpose, this shit is serious.” He lowers his voice, “And you definitely don’t seem like a killer to me.”  
I take a breath, “Who knows, I could be.”  
Pete takes his hand off my shoulder, “You couldn’t, not with that anxiety. Trust me, I faced the same shit. I had a similar attitude, and I was wrong.”  
My eyes cast to the ground, “Even if I couldn't, it's gonna happen.”  
“I know.” Pete pauses, “Be real with me… why? What's your plan?”  
“You honestly want to know?” I ask, feeling nervous.  
He nods.  
“To get closer to Ryan, okay? And I know it sounds dumb, but hey, I can't help my feelings. Might as well just… Pete?” I can't even finish my thought and he starts walking away.  
I see his friend not too far away from him. I watch as they converse briefly as the guy with the hat walks over.  
“Are you crazy or just impulsive as fuck? Sorry, I'm Patrick.” He sticks out his hand.  
My jaw tightens. Well, I definitely know I don't like him, but I shake his hand ironically.  
“Brendon.” I say.  
“Yeah, I know. Pete has been keeping me up to date. Don't take him walking away a middle finger to you. Ryan is a sore subject.”  
“Oh.” I reply. That makes sense. Damn, what did he do to him?  
“Yeah. Anyway, take out your phone, I'm giving you my number.” He says.  
“Why do you need-” I get cut off.  
“Oh my god, phone, now.” He sticks out his hand. Goddamn, upfront much? I take out my phone and hand it over.  
“Your timing is impeccable. Props.” He says, typing.  
I roll my eyes, “Well, expect a lack of messages and calls, Pat.” I hold out my hand for my phone back.  
He puts on a bitch face before practically slamming the phone onto my palm, “When you spill blood and have a panic attack, you'll be all alone with no sane person to vent to. We don't have to like each other, but Pete wants to help you.”  
I cross my arms, “Then I can talk to Pete.”  
Patrick rolls his eyes, “Not with your pursuit of Ryan. Like I said, Pete doesn't like what you're doing, but he's well aware that he can't change your mind, so he's gonna stay back. In conclusion, take me or leave me, I'm all you got.”  
I sigh, “Fine.”  
Both of them walk away, so I sit at that bench by myself. 

~~~

_Entry 2 ___  
_It’s been a few days, and nothing has happened. Dallon started talking to me again after I invited myself into the club (Which I have yet to actually be in. I don’t know what’s taking so long). He’s even been helping me with work from class. He’s smart, which I should have figured amongst the whole ‘killing and getting away with it’ thing. I’ve been easing my mind about it all, which is good. If I wrote a journal right after I did what I did, it probably would have been a mess of repeated jumbles of panic. Stuff like ‘Fuck’ a billion times amongst short sentences like ‘I’m going to die’ or ‘Why am I so stupid?’. I don’t feel compelled to say anything like that now. The world is turning, and even though I’m about to walk into some fucked up shit, at least it’s at a slow pace. Who knows, maybe when I do kill someone I’ll be like “Wow, was it really that bad?”. Yikes. I do have a moral compass, I swear. Granted, I’m the only one reading this… I know what I mean. Lunch time is weird as I’ve continued to just isolate myself. Dallon doesn’t pester me about it. Also, I haven’t texted Patrick yet. He’s kind of a dick. Pete fled from me after I just mentioned Ryan’s name. It’s weird and I just really want to know why. Oh yeah, I never mentioned Pete and Patrick in my last entry, but I was scared out of my mind then. They want to help me get through this hell hole, which I don’t understand. I thought Pete would hate me. I’m doing what he told me not to do. Maybe he just holds out hope for people. Anyway, I have to finish my essay for English. Surprisingly, the work has yet to thoroughly stress me out._  


____________I put the journal away and take out my laptop to write. I don’t get very far before I hear a knock at the door. Dallon left earlier, maybe he forgot his key. I get off my bed and go to the door to open it. I’m greeted by no one. What the fuck? My eyes glance down to the floor and I see a letter. I hesitantly pick it up and walk back inside. I notice my initials written in small letters on it. I swallow hard, tearing open the letter and taking out a small post-it note. It has today’s date in the corner along with a time ‘9pm’ and a place ‘outside of room 100 facing the lot’. I’m immediately sketched out. The first couple rooms in the 100s section weren’t labeled on the map so I could only assume they weren’t used for anything. They were also near the dirt lot used for additional parking which was a creepy sight at night since most of the area looked deserted. I have a feeling that this has to be the club. I look at the clock and decide to wait around one more hour till it’s 8:45. In this time, I mindlessly browse the internet, because I can’t focus on homework. When it finally is a quarter to 9, I get up and place the paper in my pocket. I then slip on shoes and go outside. It’s a bit cold out, but I don’t bother to turn around and grab a jacket.  
My feet are planted on the concrete between the building and the dirt lot on the other side of the entrance to room 100. I keep looking around in all directions for a good 15 minutes. I jump, hearing the sounds of knocking on what must have been one of the side doors to a neighboring building. I can see a post it note stuck to one of the said doors. I walk over and read what it has to say. ‘Keep your eyes on this note, count down slowly from 10’  
“In my head or out loud?” I say to myself, “Fuck it,” and start whispering, “ten… nine… eight… seven… si-”  
Two hands grab onto my arms as a sack is pulled over my head.


	4. Boys! Grab Your Guns

The two people holding onto my arms walk me into a room somewhere. I’m put into a chair as they tie my wrists behind my back. See, this would be kinky if I didn’t feel like these people were going to murder me. The sack is removed from my head and I’m faced with all the members of The Scarlet Society blankly staring at me with weapons in their hands. The room is slightly dim and confined like it’s a teacher’s office. I swallow hard.  
Ryan says, “You know our name, and from what Dallon said, you seem to be more than intrigued to join.”  
“Yeah.” I muster with a nervous tone.  
“This” Ryan notions to everyone in the room, “is a precaution. If you seem like a flake, you’re dead. If you seem untrustworthy or suspicious in any way, you’re dead. If you just now realized what you’ve gotten yourself into and you’re scared shitless, you’re dead.”  
“I’m not scared.” I say, laughing it off. Nerves can be mistaken for confidence, right?  
“State your purpose.” Ryan says.  
I clear my throat, “I have a dark side, course I do. Killing? I think about it all the time. I tortured animals when I was younger, salted some snails, you know.”  
Dallon starts to speak, “How did you find out about the name?”  
Ryan lifts a hand in Dallon’s direction, “Doesn’t matter.” He walks closer to me and looks deep into my eyes, “So, you do have an urge to kill or at least a drive for vengeance.”  
“Yeah.” I say, almost mesmerized by how gorgeous he is.  
“Good. Welcome to The Scarlet Society.” He says before turning to everyone else, “Cut him loose.”  
Frank comes over and slices through the rope. I stand up almost hesitantly as it feels like I’m in a totally different world. We walk out of the small room into a relatively bigger one. There’s some chairs and a couple desks. It’s an ominous atmosphere even though it looks like any other type of small classroom. It’s the minimalism of it all that really gets to me.  
Ryan says, “Meetings are held here. In the back there’s some computers for research.” Everyone seems to spread out and find their places in the room. I continue walking with Ryan as we get to a door set near the computers.  
“This,” Ryan says as he opens the door, “is where we store all the weapons.”  
My jaw almost drops, seeing the various shelves of knives and guns. The brown haired boy looks towards the rest of the members, “Weapon check in five.” He leaves the door open.  
“We like to keep it organized. Weapons get checked in and out. Anyone caught stealing or losing one will be tortured.” Ryan starts walking towards the front of the room, so I follow.  
“Up here is a log.” He says, motioning to a journal on the front desk, “Everyone documents their kills. Most of the time we only document the kills that happen while in the club, but some note others just to brag. You have to mark those with a red pen.” He opens the journal and flips to Dallon’s page. There’s names, dates, and red marks next to a handful of them. Holy fuck.  
“You haven’t killed yet, but put down your name.” Ryan says, flipping to a blank page.  
I take one of the black pens and begin to write my name on the top. My hand starts to get shakey, so I quickly finish and place the pen down. I hope he didn’t notice.  
“Good.” He says, before closing the journal, “This is an unofficial meeting so we’ll disperse soon. Third period on Tuesdays and after school on Thursdays is when we meet. These times are usually separated by planning and executing although it can vary.”  
“I have a third period class, would that be a problem?” I ask.  
“Drop your class.” He says almost immediately.  
“But it’s the only class I like.” I say in protest.  
He looks at me with a serious demeanor, “As leader of this group, you’ll do as I say.”  
That tone gives me shivers. That boss mentality is sexy, but these rules are starting to suck, “Understood.”  
He gives me a pat on the back, “Self defense and weapon training will happen on Tuesday.”  
“Great!” I reply, almost too enthusiastically, as he walks away.  
I face the rest of the room and watch as the boys put their weapons back in the storage closet. This isn’t so bad. As of right now the suckiest bit is knowing I have to drop music. At least I wouldn't have to awkwardly face Pete. My brain has yet to process the authenticity of those weapons...

_Entry 3 ___  
_This shit is starting to get real. I just got back to my room after dropping my music class. Fucking sucks, but I’m not going to argue with a bunch of killers. Especially not Ryan, who is more intriguing than intimidating. I don’t know, there’s something about his whole demeanor. I like how his bangs sweep across his forehead and lay lengthily on the side of his face. I like his cute button nose and pretty lips. I like a killer, and I have moments where I want to mutter the words out loud just to feel the truth brush against the wind. Really, it just seems like a different world. I’ve seen a room, people, and weapons. Everything just seems like a crazy story. What’s safer, masking this truth or embracing it? I should talk to Patrick, he would probably know what to do. Yeah, actually wanting to talk to Patrick is a bizarre thought, but I’m going into this blind and I do have to take this shit seriously. Anyway, Tuesday (tomorrow, fuck!) is the first day of an official club meeting. Kind of insane. I’ve never picked up a gun in my life and I never even held one of those ‘Psycho’ sized butcher knives. It’s going to be quite the experience. I have yet to play into a different person, and today was a bit of a falter. Even though Ryan and I are in second period, I didn’t really engage him. Maybe tomorrow… hell… I should! Act all excited and shit.  
_

__

____________My alarm goes off. It’s Tuesday, oh shit. I get up quickly, feeling more gitty than ever. A bunch of thoughts rush through my head as I get my clothes on. I turn to face the door and notice Dallon is mostly ready to go. He looks in my direction and a smile is planted on my face.  
“Weapon training today, hell yeah.” I say.  
Dallon smirks, “That enthusiastic, huh?”  
“Listen, man, I’ve never picked up a real weapon before in my life. It’s exciting. I mean, wasn’t it exciting when you held your first gun or knife, whatever?” My words are taking on a life of their own, and it’s creating a safety blanket for my sanity.  
“Yeah, I guess it was, but a weapon is nothing more than a tool. It’s what you do with it that really creates something euphoric.” There’s a mute darkness in Dallon’s overall persona.  
A nervous shock tries to crawl up my spine. I grab my shoes and slip them on, “I bet.” I reply. My fake smile feels too forced, so I just let it drop.  
I then grab my stuff and head towards the door, “Ready?” I say, raising my eyebrows.  
“Of course.” He says with a cool demeanor as we head to first period.  
During class, I zone out a lot and mindlessly tap my pencil against my notebook. The professor’s words slip in and out of my ears and I try my best to take any sort of notes that I can. The next class is different when I see Ryan walk through the door. I decide to get up from where I’m sitting and scurry over next to him. Dallon stays in his place. I could very well motion him over, but I restrain.  
“Hey!” I say.  
He looks at me with tired eyes, “Brendon.”  
“Club meeting today, pretty exciting.” I say, beaming.  
“Definitely.” He says before looking away and licking his lips.  
As the class continues, I’m not nearly as anxious. I can actually focus, and I start to wonder if it’s because of Ryan’s presence. I glance over to him every once and awhile. He’s so pretty when he’s focused on what he’s doing. He looks over to me, most likely picking up on the fact that I’ve been staring. I avert my gaze and try hard to conceal my growing smile.  
When the period ends, I start to feel bubbling anticipation in the pit of my stomach. I’m not nervous or scared, because I get to spend more time with Ryan. I can erase what this club is about, because I get to look at his face. Hopeless? Tragically. All three of us walk to the 100s building. Ryan takes out his own key to the classroom door and unlocks it. I graciously walk in first and take a seat at one of the front desks.  
When I catch Ryan looking at me, I say, “What’s the lesson today, professor?” I wiggle my eyebrows.  
Ryan crosses his arms and looks at me with an irritated demeanor, “Cut it out. C’mon, we’re going to the other room.”  
“No fun here? Shit!” I say as I follow Ryan.  
He stops before turning around and harshly grabbing my shoulder. He gets behind me before pushing my body against the wall. The surprise of the action makes the slight pain feel almost nonexistent. He pins me there, and I can feel his chin lightly hover over my shoulder. God, he’s not fucking around. “Of course not, sunshine. Day one, and you’re starting to get on my bad side. No funny business, alright?” He lets me go, and fuck, I don’t mind getting on his bad side.  
I turn around, “Got it.” I say.  
I glance to the rest of the room. It’s quiet and awkward as everyone’s eyes are on us. I hear the rattle of the door adjacent to me as I glance back over in that direction. Ryan gives me another disapproving look before walking into the room. I follow. In here, there’s only one table and a few mats on the floor.  
“I was going to train you for a bit myself, but…”  
“Hey, I can take this seriously, I swear. I’ll cooperate, I’ll do whatever-”  
“Dallon and Frank,” He shouts, “get in here.”  
I sigh. Ryan looks back to me, “Do well with them and I’ll go through a few routines with you.”  
“Great!” I reply, “Sounds good! Yeah…”  
Dallon and Frank walk over as Ryan looks to them, “Self defense and attack. Don’t go too easy on him. Introduce him to a few weapons after three rounds, I’ll check back in 45 minutes.”  
They both nod in response before directing their attention to me. I don’t want to jinx myself, but I doubt it’ll be that challenging, right? Dallon doesn’t say much when he leads me through the physical attacks. It’s weird trying to pin down or slam against someone like him just because he’s pretty damn tall. Frank is more verbal when going through the motions of self defense, and he doesn’t take it too seriously. Every once and awhile there’s a smile on his face, mostly when I screw something up. Queue to 30 minutes later, and I’m sweating bullets. Most of this shit would be way easier to do in gym shorts and a thin t-shirt. I do get a hang of the motions after an almost embarrassing amount of time.  
I sit down on one of the matts as Frank brings back a knife and a gun. He says, “Time to handle these puppies.”  
“No breaks?” I say between deep breaths.  
“Nope.” He sticks out his hand.  
I sigh as he helps me up. He places the weapons on the single table and I take a second to look at them. One is a handgun and the other is some sort of butcher knife. Both are very extremely intimidating. I pick up the knife and just look at it. I wonder if it’s ever been used.  
I look to Frank, “Have all the weapons been used?”  
“Yep.” He says.  
I turn away from him and slightly cringe to myself. Not so pleasant images run through my mind as I imagine there this has been. I gently set the weapon down and say, “Looks pretty clean.”  
“Yeah, we gotta clean the weapons afterwards. Pretty practical task after doing a job. Don’t want anything to rust or stay dirty.” He says.  
I look at him, “Job? Code word for killing people, right?”  
He smiles before touching his nose and pointing at me, “Bingo.” He crosses his arms, keeping a loose smile on his lips, “You’re catching onto this stuff pretty quickly.”  
“I mean, it’s common sense in a place like this, right?” I say.  
“Hell yeah.” He replies. He looks over to Dallon, “Your roomie is doing pretty good for a rookie.”  
“Definitely.” The taller man replies in a light tone glancing between both of us.  
I decide to continue a conversation, just to stall for time, “So, when do I get one of those cool club jackets?”  
Frank says, “After you kill someone.”  
“Right. That definitely makes sense.” I reply.  
Everyone’s attention then turns to the door as it opens revealing Ryan.  
“Dallon and Frank, you’re dismissed. I’ll do the weapons training with Brendon.” Both of them nod in response before leaving the room.  
Ryan walks over to me and I pretend to look at a watch on my wrist, “Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”  
The brown haired boy looks at me with one of the most serious bitch faces I’ve ever seen, “Did you forget what I said earlier?”  
“You know, things did get a bit foggy when you pushed me against the wall- ah.” I wince as Ryan grabs my wrist and painfully twists my hand.  
“I could make this very difficult for you.” He says.  
“Because of my great personality, ah fuck-” I whine as he starts to push back some of my fingers with his other hand.  
He doesn’t respond and instead lets me go.  
I retreat my hand and cater to my now slightly sore fingers.  
“Pick up the gun.” He says, very sternly.  
Now the setting feels more serious again. I do as he says and I pick up the cold weapon from the table. It’s heavier than I imagined.  
“Hold it out.” He says.  
I slowly raise the gun and point it in front of me.  
“Straighter. Both hands.” He says, and I try my best following through with orders.  
“Make sure the safety is off. You cock the gun by moving this lever.” He says, coming closer and pointing to a specific area on the gun. I follow his instructions.  
“Am I actually going to shoot this thing?” I ask.  
“Not here and not now. Just wanted to make sure you could hold it correctly.” He says.  
I feel a great relief in that moment, lowering the gun.  
“Put the safety back on and pick up the knife.” He says.  
I follow through with his orders once again and pick up the lengthy blade.  
“Hand it to me.” He says, and I do so.  
My mind wanders back to how he and I are the only two in the room and the fact that he came in 15 minutes early. Either he wants to make my life a slight hell due to my personality or...  
“I’m going to show you some follow-throughs with a blade and you’re going to mimic my actions.” He says.  
I nod in response and watch him as he wields the weapon. There’s grace in his movements as the sharp tip slices quickly through the air. He hands me the blade and I copy the actions as well as I can. In this case, I truly want to impress him. If he finds my personality so annoying, maybe my body language won’t be as off putting. After some time of working with the blade, I find it to be quite invigorating. There really is some sort of grace with handling a weapon like this, and I just thought it was one violent stab motion and that’s it.  
Eventually Ryan directs me to put the blade back on the table. He says, “More training will happen Thursday. You’ll go through the motions of self defense and attack with the weapons.”  
“Wait, like really using the weapons against someone else?” I say with wide eyes.  
“In a controlled setting with limitations.”  
“Oh, right. Yeah, of course.” I laugh nervously.  
Ryan says, “The period should be over within the next few minutes. Show me what you’ve learned from Dallon and Frank.”  
“Which one first, self defense or attack?” I ask.  
Ryan swings a punch at me and I quickly block him. Another swing, another block. He tries to grab my wrist and I quickly get out of it. There’s a few more blocks and punches, which isn’t so bad until he manages to trip me. I fall to my hands and knees, but before I get back up, he pins me down completely. His hand is on the back of my neck with his knee pressed to my lower back.  
“Be weary of feet.” Ryan says before getting off of me.  
I stand up, dusting myself off, “Will do.”  
“I can’t deny you did well.” He says, crossing his arms.  
“What can I say? I’m a fast learner.” I reply, smiling.  
Ryan looks to the ground, exhaling, and I swear I see a smile, “Goddamn.”  
“What is it?” I ask.  
“I’ve never met a soon-to-be killer with a personality like yours.”  
“I’m full of surprises.” I say, smirking.  
The bell rings, and all Ryan says before walking away is, “Be prepared Thursday.”  
“Will do!” I reply. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I think I’m getting to him… at least a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to murder this formatting. I just had to paste an html 40 freaking times.


	5. Blood Moon

It’s weird going out to the lunch tables from the club. Everyone is so quiet now when they take a seat outside in the sun. It’s like the first time I sat with them; everyone seems to be in the same spot. The only difference is now I know everything. I didn’t sit with them yesterday because of going into the office to drop my class. Josh brings up a bag and pulls out food for him and Tyler to share. Frank and Gerard both mutually decide to go to the food court and get something. I’m a bit hungry, but for some reason I don’t bother to do anything about it. Maybe the shellshock is setting in.  
The silence lasts too long for my liking, and I also want to get away from my thoughts, “Today was productive with the training and all. Learned a lot!”  
“Yes, and you’ll learn more Thursday.” Ryan says staring ahead of himself before bringing a fork full of salad to his mouth.  
Silence again. Eventually Frank and Gerard come back with some sub sandwiches. They exchange a brief conversation between themselves before eating. I mindlessly take out my phone and flip through apps just to look like I’m doing something.  
“Hey, no food, new guy?” Frank asks.  
I look up from my phone, “Uh, no. Not that hungry.”  
“Here.” He tosses me a bag of chips, “You did good today.”  
I graciously smile, “Thanks, man.”  
“He wouldn’t shut up about you.” Gerard says.  
Frank playfully shoves him, “Not like anything interesting is going on. Last job I had was 2 weeks ago and we mostly do everything together.” He beams at Gerard.  
“Naw, it is interesting having a new member. God knows we’ve tried to find others.” Gerard replies.  
“Convenient being roommates with Dallon, ya know?” I say, patting Dallon on the shoulder.  
The taller man pretty much ignores me, and I’m fine with that.  
“Not convenient for everyone.” Frank says before taking another bite of his sandwich.  
“Truly.” Gerard says to Dallon, “I don’t even remember your previous roommate's name.”  
“Thomas Shumaker.” Dallon replies.  
“Oh, wait a minute,” Gerard turns to Frank, “that guy with the glasses in your world studies class.”  
“Yeah, I remember him. Rest in peace, dude.” Frank finishes before briefly laughing.  
I open my bag of chips so roughly that it almost splits in half. A casual conversation about some guy Dallon killed… delightful. 

~~~

The next day rolls around, and it’s awkward sitting beside Ryan. Last night gave me more than enough time to overthink about my actions around him. I can’t help with how I act sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to see him truly pissed. That’s no fun. Little things here and there shouldn’t be harmful, besides it’s a mental defense mechanism.  
“About yesterday,” Ryan starts, “I got a little rough. I can’t police you for being yourself.”  
I'm surprised by this, “Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess I could tone it down, anyway. This stuff is serious, right?” I say, almost shocked that I feel compelled to compromise a part of me that he seems to actually be fine with.  
He looks at me, “Right.”  
There’s something different in his eyes… something soft amongst the rough demeanor.  
“Alright class.” The professor starts the lesson of the day. I look away from Ryan and smile to myself. 

~~~

Thursday evening rolls around and I still haven’t talked to Patrick. It’s just the beginning of all this, and I think I’m handling it well enough. I walk with Dallon to the club. When we get inside, I relax at one of the tables for for a bit since Ryan hasn’t shown up yet. I look around the room and notice that Frank and Gerard aren’t here. They are the two people I would have enjoyed spending some time talking with. I sigh, flicking at a piece of crumpled up paper laying on the desk.  
Soon enough, Ryan walks into the room. He doesn’t make a scene to get everyone’s attention, and instead, approaches me.  
“Frank and Gerard have a job tonight, so Dallon and I will go through the second part of weapon training with you.” He says.  
I nod my head, “Sounds good.”  
“Let’s do this.” He looks to Dallon, “Grab a knife and a gun.”  
We all walk to the next room and quickly get into the session. My biggest fear is getting sliced by the blade, but besides that, everything seems to be the same. When I do ask about the gun, Ryan waves it off like it’s not as important. I would rather pull the trigger and turn away than actually stab someone in close proximity to me. I don’t mildly argue with the brown haired boy. That resistance to crack a joke or ask any ‘unnecessary’ questions leads me with a feeling of heavy discomfort. It’s the silent ambiance that makes everything feel real, and here I am letting it linger.  
At the end of the session, Ryan says, “You’re good with a blade.”  
I just say, “Thanks.” with a humble smile.  
“By next week you’ll be ready enough for your first kill.”  
“So soon?” I ask, feeling nervous.  
Ryan nods, “Think of someone within the next few days. Give it a week and a half after that point, and everything should be set in place. Since you haven’t killed before, some of us will help you execute the job.”  
“Teamwork, I like it.” I reply.  
“When it comes down to it, it’ll be all you.” Ryan says.  
“Oh yeah, definitely. Can’t wait, ya know? My first kill will surely be an experience.” Now I’m just talking out of nerves, realizing that this will happen in no time.

 

~~~

 

_Hey Pat, it’s Brendon. I guess we should talk._

____

_Ease up on giving me a nickname,_  
_I prefer Patrick._ _Meet me at 5 near ___  
_the 800s building. _ _  
_____

____

____

 

It's around 5. Instead of heading to the dorms, I go right to where Patrick plans to meet me. Thankfully, I avoid seeing Dallon. I doubt he's been eyeing my actions lately, but it's better to play it safe. I check my phone every so often to see if Patrick is going to say anything else. There's no added response. Soon enough I see him walking over with a cellphone pressed to his ear. I catch the ending of his conversation when he approaches me.  
“Yeah babe, I'm with him now. Love you too.” He ends the call.  
“Who were you on the phone with?” I ask, intrigued.  
“Pete.”  
Oh, I think, “He’s your...?”  
“Boyfriend.” There's a pause, “It's a small world when circumstances are fucked. We only have each other.”  
“I see.” I reply.  
“Anyway, let’s just cut to it. Did something happen?” He says with a concerned expression.  
“Not yet. Ryan said I’d be ready in over a week to… you know.” I say quietly.  
Patrick takes a breath, “You’re not going to come back from this the same.”  
“Yeah, no shit. Pete already gave me that talk.” I say.  
Patrick’s upper lip quivers in annoyance, “I don’t know why he even bothered with you.”  
“What is that supposed to mean?” I say, starting to feel irritated.  
“You seem like a goddamn lost cause to me with your choices.” He says through gritted teeth.  
“I know what I’m doing. Even if I did dig a hole for myself, I know damn well how to get out of it.” I say, matter-of-factly.  
Patrick scoffs, “Humor me, huh? What’s your big plan?”  
I don’t really have a plan, and it makes me feel like I’m playing both sides. God, this was such a bad idea, “I’m… working on it, okay?”  
“And I know what that means.” Patrick says.  
Through anger, I feel compelled to be honest, “Fuck you, alright? You’re supposed to have my back along with Pete. I don’t want to lose myself. Really thinking about it scares the hell out of me. I’m trying… to just deal with this and do what I can.”  
“I understand that but… you should have an idea of why it’s really hard to simply cooperate with you.” He says almost desperately.  
It takes me a second, “Ryan.”  
“That son of a bitch is a monster, okay?” He says with wide eyes.  
“I can handle him. He’s a person, there has to be some ounce of humanity in him-”  
“You’re sympathizing already.” He says seeping into a disappointed expression.  
“So, the fuck, what?” I ask, speaking almost in defense of Ryan as well as myself.  
Patrick shakes his head, “Do what you want. Swim too far off in the deep end and I won’t be able to get to you, got it?”  
I nod.  
“I’m going to go. Delete our texts, and be careful if anyone starts to closely monitor you, whether it’s out of suspicion or not. We can change our communications then.”  
“Okay.” I say, watching as he walks away. 

~~~  


_Entry 4 ___  
_Days go by and my growing frustration seems immanent. I can't, for the life of me, think of who I hate so much that I wish they were dead. I think back to my classes and no one seemed to be bothersome… although I do now remember seeing one guy in that music class before I dropped it. His name is Jackson and he used to go to my highschool before eventually dropping out before senior year. Who knows why, but apparently whatever he did wasn't bad enough to exclude his chances to go to a school like this. He was kind of an asshole. It's like he wanted people to hate him even though he belonged with the popular kids and played some sports. I dropped my grudge with him over this past summer, so seeing him pop back up in my life wasn’t a big deal. I never bothered to note it, especially after I met Pete. He seemed to distract me from anything in my recent past. Well, I guess I'll choose him. I wouldn't care if he died anyway. He made me hate myself more than I already did at the time. I’ll keep these thoughts at the forefront of my mind knowing that his life will eventually be taken by me. There's a feeling of power amongst the lack of morality. The hesitation to grab onto the feeling is prevalent. I can act like a monster, but I don't know if I would want to become one. I could imagine a safety amongst one of the two, but there's too much of a willingness to hold onto myself. Well, who even am I anyway? Can't I change? Do I even want to? Time isn't on my side, and soon enough shit will just happen and I will have to face it as it comes.  
_

__

~~~

It's a few days before the job on another late afternoon in the club. Ryan knows about Jackson and Gerard has been doing some research. A tactic is already being built, so I wonder what I could even do today besides more practice or something.  
I sit around for a while before Ryan walks over to the desk I’m at, “Come to the other room with me.”  
I say, “Okay.” And I don't mind extra practice, honestly. I can always get better.  
Ryan doesn't tell me to retrieve any weapons. It's just use two in the room and he looks at me with a blank expression.  
“In a few days you'll take your first life. Training is out of the way, but one of the most important things to keep in mind is your fuel for the kill. For some, it's the drive for satisfaction. For others it's the built up anger for revenge.”  
“So, I should get angry.” I say.  
“That guy was a fucking asshole, was he not?” Ryan asks.  
“He was the worst.” I say.  
“Tell me what he did to you.” Ryan demands.  
“He called me a fag and tried to steal my shit.”  
“What else?” Ryan says, stepping closer to me.  
“He used to push me around and made fun of what I wore.” I say, and recollecting the memories do begin to light a flame of anger.  
“He pushed you, huh? Like this?” Ryan shoves me back.  
It takes me off guard, but I go with it, “Yeah.”  
Ryan gets close again, “Called you a goddamn faggot.” Another shove.  
I can feel the heat rising from my core, “That son of a bitch really fucked with me.” I say.  
“What do you want to do to him?” Ryan asks, raising his voice.  
I raise mine as well, “I want him dead.”  
“No.” Another shove, “What do you want to do to him?”  
“I-” Ryan cuts me off with another shove, “What the fuck do you want to do with that piece of shit who made your life hell?”  
“I want to kill him!” I yell, and I feel the awful earnesty in the pit of my stomach, “I want to watch him fucking die by my hand.”  
“That's it!” Ryan says, patting my shoulders before gripping them, “Hold that inside you from now until then.”  
“I will.” I reply.  
“Good.” He says, letting his hands linger on my shoulders for one more moment before brushing down my arms.  
I smirk to myself when he walks away. I embrace the ghost of his touch while the heat of my vengeance dwindles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My toleration for HTML lacks heavily. Take it or leave it, readers. I make slight attempts.


	6. Dark Side

It’s 11pm on a Sunday as I stand outside the club’s door. Tonight is the night and I’m tense. I’ve been on edge since yesterday after an unknown number (turning out to be Ryan) gave me a message to meet and this current time and noted that I should wear dark clothing. I’m briefly startled when the door opens revealing Gerard who gives me a nod to come in. The only other person besides him is Ryan.  
“So,” Gerard starts, “Jackson McPherson got kicked out of Palo Verde High for suspicion of drugs. His parents managed to get him out of any legal trouble because of the family’s high income. I dug deep enough to find out that the drug was meth. I contacted a guy who knows a guy, long story short, we set up a fake drug deal.”  
“Impressive.” I reply, because it honestly is.  
Ryan says, “I got the location of the meet up, we’re leaving in 5.”  
“Okay.” I say.  
I watch as Ryan goes over to the storage room. I proceed in his direction and ask, “Do I get weapon of choice?”  
He takes out a pretty big butcher knife before turning in my direction, “No.”  
He sticks out the blade for me to take, and I carefully go in to grab the handle. I inch my fingers around the width more than I should just so my skin could brush against Ryan’s. Flirting calms my nerves, that’s for damn sure. I can’t tell if Ryan picked up on it because he doesn’t give me a second look before closing the storage door. I examine the knife, and it’s not much bigger than the one I had been practicing with. Still, this is actually going to be put into use, and just the vague thought sends a shiver up my spine.  
“What’s going to happen after I kill him?” I ask, genuinely curious.  
“We have contacts on the outside who help take care of disposing bodies.” Gerard says.  
“Oh.” Is all I can say in response to that.  
Ryan and I soon enough make our way off campus and head to the parking garage. There, Ryan leads me to his car. It’s a black Toyota Camry which seems fitting for him. I get into the passenger seat and set the blade in the back. The drive to our destination is silent, and I wonder if it’s always like that. Maybe he just doesn’t play music when he’s on the way to a job. If I lacked morality and had a pretty good sound system, I would blast some heavy metal. Music is always a good way to get into a mood and drive motivation. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be angry at Jackson. It’s hard to get into that mindset when I look at how the streetlights seep in and out, creating glowing frame around Ryan’s profile.  
We get to a red light and Ryan looks over to me. I avert my gaze and try to look like I’m angry and focused. In my peripheral vision, I can see him still looking at me. I look over and his eyes are immediately glued to mine.  
He looks me up and down, “You ready?”  
“Of course.” I say in a low, serious tone.  
He looks back to the road and the light turns green, “Good.”  
After one more block, Ryan turns into an abandoned parking lot. He says, “Jackson will be around this next building’s corner.” He points.  
When Ryan turns off the car, I reach in the backseat for the knife.  
The brown haired boy says, “We have about 10 minutes. We’ll slowly make our way over, and I’ll check the coast when we get there.”  
“Okay,” I start, “so when we do see Jackson… I just run over and stab him?”  
“That was going to be the plan, but I’ll make it even easier. I’ll hold him for you.”  
I look at him with a mildly surprised expression, “Generous are we, Ross?” I smirk.  
Ryan looks away and briefly shakes his head. There’s a slight smile on his lips. He says, “Can’t have you fucking up your first kill.”  
I pretend to be mildly offended by his response, “You don’t trust that I’ll do well by myself?”  
He looks back over to me, “Thank me now or later, Urie.” His eyes once again cast my figure up and down. That slight pull at the corners of his mouth… all I do is stare until his eyes catch and hold onto mine.  
“How do you want me to thank you?” I say without a thought.  
His eyebrows raise while his jaw drops slightly, leaving his lips generously parted. He glances away towards the window, letting out a brief chuckle.  
I look away, nervously laughing before saying, “God, sorry, that was uncalled for I-”  
“We’ll see.” He says, and I just barely catch it amongst my rambling.  
“What?” I say breathily. My face feels hot as my palms start to sweat.  
He looks at me and says, “C’mon.” before opening the door.  
I shake off this interaction, feeling confused more than anything. My thoughts fall back to the situation at hand as I get out of the car. I try to just breathe as we steadily make our way to the building Ryan directed to. I suddenly hear the sound of a car close by.  
“C’mon.” Ryan pulls at my hand and we both quickly get around a corner.  
My heart is already pounding as my back is pressed against the building’s wall. We wait to see if could be Jackson, and the engine turning off not too far away is a clear confirmation. We cautiously move towards the far end of the building. Ryan stops as well as I. He peers his head around the corner to see if Jackson is in view yet. I close my eyes for a moment, just wishing this is all a bad dream. At least I can leave the scene for a moment. One moment of calm… one last moment before my sanity potentially cracks. Ryan’s hand taps against my shoulder and my stomach is instantly tied in knots. He gives me a signal that he’s about to move out. He looks away from me as his fingers countdown from 3 to 1. He starts to make his way around the corner, and I prepare myself by holding up the lengthy blade. My hands are already threatening to shake as I follow Ryan a few moments later.  
I watch as he sneaks behind Jackson. Ryan pushes hard against Jackson’s back with his foot causing the man to fall forward onto his hands and knees. Jackson quickly turns around and tries to get back up before Ryan takes a swing at him, socking one of his eyes. Jackson curses to the wind and holds a hand against his injured eye. He tries to get up as Ryan walks around him, picking him up with a headlock. Jackson’s tall height causes his body to arch back with his chest protruding outwards in Ryan’s strong grasp.  
“Now.” Ryan says to me.  
I rush at Jackson with my knife and everything happens so fast. The blade is lodged a few inches into his flesh just below the sternum. I let out a groan amongst my deep breaths. My hand is still tightly gripped around the blade as I look at the shocked expression on his face. Distressed sounds escape his lips; it’s haunting. I drag the blade harshly downwards just to shut him up and his blood hits my face and chest. I use what’s left of my weakening strength to take out the sharp object. His legs start to collapse. Ryan goes down with him and I follow suit. I let the knife fall out of my hands as Ryan tosses Jackson to the side. I watch as the dark, viscous liquid pools heavily out of his mouth and chest. His hands weakly rise to his gaping wound before falling to the floor.  
My mouth hangs agap as I rest on my legs. My eyes glance to Ryan who is less than two feet away from me. He inches closer in my direction before grabbing my stained shirt. Before I can process it, his lips are pressed against mine. My hands desperately cup the side of his face, and for a second, I ignore the world around me. I wanted this… didn’t I? The smell of blood seeps into my nostrils and there’s an instant detached feeling from the embrace. My heart races for other reasons. We separate and I look back to what I did. Jackson is pale as his still eyes glance out into the distance.  
I didn’t even notice Ryan get up as he presents his hand for me to take. I stand with him. He keeps me in close proximity as his fingers find the small of my back. He resumes kissing me and I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can. ‘If I can’t see it, it’s not here.’ I repeat that phrase in my head as Ryan’s tongue slips in my mouth.  
He stops before taking out his phone and calling one of the people on the outside to come take care of the body. My breathing is extremely shallow now as Ryan stays considerably close after putting his phone away. His hands roam so lightly and I look into his eyes. He licks his lips, but before I can latch onto a potential moment of stability, his eyes are gone. I practically hold my breath as his lips fall to my neck. I don’t process a damn thing as I look back over to Jackson’s body. The silence in the air seems to get quieter and the world around me begins to fade ever so slightly.  
Ryan palms my jeans and I take a deep breath. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and I try to take in his scent. I keep breathing deeply until I don’t feel as light headed.  
He says, “Let’s go back to mine.”  
I just nod.  
As soon as we get into Ryan’s room, his lips crash hard against mine while his hands roam. The blood, the blood, the blood. The thought won’t leave me alone as the stench is still prevalent. He nearly tears off my clothing and it gives me a brief sense of comfort due to the absence of the vile crimson smell. His hot breath keeps ghosting against my ear and my stomach practically turns. I don't want to shut my eyes because I'll just see that corpse again. Ryan is palming me and kissing my neck, and I can feel myself getting harder. I know in my imagination I wanted this. Why don't I want it now? It’s such a distraction from the guttural echoes in my brain.  
The way Jackson’s body hit the floor. He barely had the chance to make a noise, but I know his phantom is screaming and all I want to do is throw up. It's too hot in here. Ryan slips off my boxers and starts stroking me and I just try to focus on that. I run my fingers through his hair before he moves back to throw off his shirt. He comes back in, kissing me again, and it’s so hard to keep my tears at bay. I'm fighting myself every second, but it all just builds and exhaustion seems quickly inevitable.

My mind continues getting caught in the dreaded aftermath of it all, and it scares me. Ryan scares me, because I can’t focus on what I thought I wanted. His lips keep silencing my weak pleas to stop. I can’t cry, I can’t scream, and no effort will obey such requests because I feel dead. Giving out is the easiest part. My body falls back onto the bed as Ryan slips off his pants. I stare blankly at the ceiling and all I can see are Jackson’s dead eyes burning a hole into the back of my skull.  
“Turn over.” Ryan demands and I cradle myself up to angle onto my stomach.  
The side of my face is against Ryan’s pillow as I lay there staring at a wall. There's calm in this moment. My brain is silent and my nerves are shot. A second later I feel the bed move and soon enough Ryan is behind me. I feel him angling my hips. This is what hell must be like. I shut my eyes when I feel the slick tip of his cock press against my entrance. When he slides into me, it burns, and I let out a noise of distress.  
He moves out and pushes back in; I make another noise. My eyes are still tightly shut as I grip the sheets hard. He builds up a rhythm and I try to breathe through my whines. My eyelids open back up and the goddamn white wall stares back at me. The pain subsides a bit before he proceeds to push deeper and deeper, eventually hitting my prostate. The vocal pain turns into pleasure now and it removes me from my thoughts… only for a moment. Time seems to drag on and on as I bury my face into the pillow. Some tears catch the silk cover as my body feels like it could temble if I tried to move. His hand wraps around my cock as he vigorously strokes me. He lets out a soft moan and I can feel his come bury up inside me. All of the sudden, I feel my own orgasm rise as I come as well. He slips out of me and I'm glad it's over. More tears hit the pillow as I just stay in the position I'm in. I feel him get off the bed and head to the bathroom.  
I hear the shower turn on as my eyes stay focused on the wall. My thoughts stop once more for a good minute and I refuse to blink. The heavy void behind my eyelids threaten to tell a terrible story, and I know this. The darkness isn’t safe anymore, but the strain builds too much. They shut and another tear falls. My lips tremble as my face threatens to contort into a painful expression. An audible cry pushes itself out of my system and my hands fly to my mouth to silence myself. My eyes shut as I hold back sobs. A mix of fluids soak my hands as I feel a growing soreness from the back of me.  
Another minute passes before my breathing is calm. I try to sit up and it definitely hurts. I slowly try to find my clothes. First I slip on my pants while I look around for my shirt. I lock eyes with the blood stained fabric. I pick it up quickly and avert my gaze. I slip it over my head and the smell of blood is still prevalent. I just about dry heave, and try to dampen the noise by once again covering my mouth. My hands shake as I struggle to get my shoes on. When I’m dressed, I go up to the bathroom door.  
“Ryan,” My body still wants to cry, but I push through it, “I’m leaving, okay?”  
“See you later, Bren. Good job tonight, it was fun.” He says.  
I walk out of his room and I’m practically limping. I eventually make it to my room and reach in my back pocket for my keys. Thank fuck they didn’t fall out. I quietly open the door and Dallon is laying there sound asleep. I trudge my body across the floor and walk into the bathroom. I’m scared to turn on the light, but I do it anyway. My broken reflection stares back at me. I can make out the blood stains on my nearly black shirt, and there’s spatters of a dark crust residing around my face and neck.  
My jaw clenches before I slip off my clothes. I turn on the water and let it stay cold. I step in and feel the freezing liquid nip at my skin. My hands rest against one of the walls as I look down. I watch some blood rush into the drain and immediately shut my eyes. I shift slightly and feel Ryan’s seed and lubricant still in me, now dripping down my legs. My chest tightens as I foolishly let my fingers fall to the back of my thighs. I hesitantly let my fingertips graze upwards and partially inside. My thoughts fall back to his cock mercilessly ramming in and out of me. My hands rush under the water, and I feel so fucking filthy. I don’t know what to make of any of it when I think of the moment he kissed me. I wanted that… didn’t I? I just... didn’t want all of this. I find the strength to quiet my brain before harshly scrubbing my body with soap. I turn off the shower and step out. I look at myself again in the mirror and my eyes are still telling the story. I wish I could just wash this all away, but I face the truth. I just fucking killed someone… and then some.


	7. Struggle & Sleep

I wake up groggy to the sound of my alarm after getting at least two hours of sleep. My feet reach the floor as all the memories from last night hit me like a wave. I grip the edge of the bed. The pain creeps back up on me and I don’t move. I breathe through it for a while before my body finally rises from the mattress. I walk into the bathroom, trying my hardest to avoid looking at the shower. Unfortunately, the mirror talks too as I’m faced with myself. I look at my figure for a while; my brain fills in the clean areas of skin with dry patches of blood. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but it’s all just dismal and numb. What I did and what happened to me… I guess the worst of it was written down in my journal last night. Maybe I can step away from it with some sort of rocky ease.  
I finish up in the bathroom before walking out and looking through my drawers for some clothes. Dallon is already dressed as he now gets up for the bathroom. I don’t know if I should say anything to him when he comes back out. I let the thought rest as I button my pants and slide on my shirt.  
“How was your first job?” Dallon asks, walking back over to his bed.  
“Well,” I fabricate my feelings, “it was exhilarating.”  
“How did you do it?” He asks in a quieter voice.  
I pause, and I try not to play the images in my head, “Knife through the chest.”  
“Must have been messy.” He inquires.  
Continuing to play my part, I chuckle, “Oh yeah.”  
First period is a drag, and I’m just struggling to keep my eyes open. The teacher’s voice is too soothing. When the bell eventually rings, I get a knot in my stomach knowing I would see Ryan in the next period. I’m too tired to process my scrambled thoughts, but I guess my tenseness is an appropriate physical response. Finally reaching class, I make the decision to just sit near the back of the room. I can’t face him right now, and I need to accept that.  
For whatever reason, I’m anxiously waiting to see him walk through the door. I should just push everything to the back of my mind; zone out. There’s a vigorous push and pull inside me, and maybe I should just let whatever happen, happen and question my choices later. I see him finally walking in, and he doesn’t look as stone cold or dreary. He’s radiating some sort of satisfaction or confidence. It looks good on him, and part of me feels like I’m responsible. That creates a deep set feeling inside that I can’t find the words for, but… I like it. He sits in his regular seat before looking around the room. Trying to find me, no less. He doesn’t catch eyes with mine, and it’s relieving in some regards.  
After that free period rolls along, it’s lunch and I walk over to the club’s table. I’m the first one there with Dallon trailing along not too long after. Frank and Gerard show up a few minutes later.  
“First job last night, huh?” Frank asks, sitting down.  
“Yeah.” I say, trying to be lively with my response.  
“Cool, man.” He replies.  
The conversation ends there since here isn’t the place to continue talking about it. Josh and Tyler eventually show up and stay quiet together like usual. The wait for Ryan keeps me at the edge of my seat. I mindlessly take out my phone since I can’t pay attention to much of anything else. I eventually hear someone approach and I hold my breath. The bench creeks and out of the corner of my eye I see Ryan sit down next to Dallon. I let out my breath slowly and I don’t look at him.  
“Everything go according to plan?” Gerard asks.  
I look up and notice his eyes on Ryan. The brown haired boy replies, “Yes, and Brendon did well.”  
I look at Ryan now and there’s a light tug at the corners of his lips. The lock of his eyes onto mine is haunting and I don’t know how to process his words. I avert my gaze, exhaling a forced smile before subtly biting my bottom lip. I think about the car ride there and how his expression was similar. There was a want in that moment, but the dissipation of such a feeling not that long after tears at me. The overwhelming conflict of everything could build right now if I wasn’t so exhausted. The subtlety of confusion stays, but something darkly persistent nips at my heels. I know it’s been there since second period.  
The day continues, and through the setting sun I don’t hesitate to crash early. I don’t think of the repercussions of getting the sleep I need. I don’t contemplate my dreams, but of course I fear what the sunshine will cast across my rested body. I have to face this shit with my eyes wide open.  
I wake up after a good 8 hours and there’s a tug at my chest. The usual jitters that snake through my body present themselves, but I try to get through it and prepare for the day. My thoughts keep digging at me every minute and I know I regret not bringing my anti-anxiety meds.  
“Hold up.” I say quietly to myself before digging through my bag. I remember I had thrown in at least one half of a Xanax along with some pre-rolled joints. The real question is where I could eventually smoke those things without getting caught. I take out the split pill and pop it in my mouth. I run over to the bathroom sink and collect some water from the faucet.  
After I get my clothes on, I look through my work and notice that I didn’t quite get it completed. Shit. I check the time and I have 10 minutes. I try to finish it as quickly as I can. It’s a good distraction. Oh, the irony of school work keeping my sanity in tact. The pill is bound to kick in soon.  
Second period and I remain in the back again. Ryan doesn’t search for me this time, and somehow it disappoints me. It’s a club day today, and I remember Frank telling me about the jackets. Maybe I’d get mine, but I wouldn’t know how to feel about it. I would know how to react, of course. Be grateful and shit. It’ll be like a badge of honor… a fucked up badge of honor.  
The bell rings, and I get up to join Dallon to routinely head to the club. Sometimes I forget that with Tuesdays Ryan could just join us on the walk over. Without another thought, I stop Dallon before we get out the door.  
“Maybe we should wait for Ryan.” I say.  
Dallon pauses before mustering, “Okay.”  
We both turn around and see Ryan collecting his stuff. When he gets up from his seat, he looks to us. He smiles a bit before walking over.  
“Waiting on me? Considerate.” He says it like it rarely happens. Dallon told me that he and Ryan were close, why wouldn’t he stick by his side often?  
I wonder if it’s just because I’m still fairly new and that is a pattern Dallon would go back to after a while. Maybe even starting now. I don’t feel as uncomfortable looking at the brown haired boy today. Maybe it’s because we’re not alone together and another day has passed. Maybe it’s just the Xanax. Well, whatever it is, the 3 of us head to the club with ease.  
I sit in my normal spot and wait for the rest of the guys to get inside. My attention is to my phone as a text from my mother appears.

 _ _ ___________Just want to check up on you, sweetie. How are classes going?_  


__

__

____________I reply:

 _ _ ___________It’s all good! Classes are going fine._  


____________“Everyone,” Ryan starts, and I put my phone away, “Brendon completed his first job over the weekend. He’s now an official member of the Scarlet Society.”  
There’s some quiet claps in the room with some enthusiastic cheers from Gerard and Frank.  
“Come up here and take your jacket.” Ryan says.  
I get up from my seat and walk to the front of the room. It feels like a different world for a moment. There’s a distinct separation from the here and now, like I’m looking from the outside in. Ryan takes out the fresh letterman jacket from the bottom cupboard of the front desk. He hands it to me all nicely folded up. I take it before unfolding it, zipping it open, and trying it on. It fits well, and I never even told him my size. It’s flattering. There’s a few more claps from the guys as I put on a smile. That nice sense of ignorant peace is wonderful, but I know it won’t last for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late upload bc I had a busy weekend. Apologies for any inaccurate descriptions of things.


	8. Something That Isn't Nothing

The last period comes to an end on a Friday evening as I mindlessly pace near the outside of the school. I debate with myself as my phone slips in and out of my pocket. I can’t stop thinking about kissing him. It’s like the pull of water back into the sea after the hard crash of a wave. All I want is to ignore the rough pebbles digging at my feet, so I finally select Ryan’s name on my phone and send him a message.

_Hey, Ryan. I want to see you. Come meet me on the outside of the club’s building?_

__

Before I even wait for a response, I head in that direction myself. It’s a reminder when I was introduced into the club, but it’s also genuinely deserted over there. I don’t even see the campus police much either. I keep checking my phone every other second to prepare for a response. I don’t even wonder if he’ll say no. 

__

_Sure. I’ll be there soon._

I can feel my heart race for a moment. I let my mind relax, just waiting for his arrival.  
After a good five minutes, I see his figure appear from one of the buildings’ corners. I walk over to meet him halfway. There’s a jittery feeling, almost like anticipation.  
“You wanted to see me.” He says in a cool demeanor.  
“Yeah.” I say almost breathlessly. I walk closer to him, letting my fingers graze his arms. He looks at my actions and lets out a soft chuckle. I swallow hard as his hand cups the base of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s open and wet and my hands run across his back. He tastes like peppermint. When we release from the kiss, I quickly press my lips to his neck, breathing in the light scent of his rather sweet cologne. I remember my goal in all of this: to pursue him. It’s hard to ignore the threatening trembles of anxiety. We go back to kissing, and I just want to take him in and push resistance out. Just… start this over. Forget that skewed line of consent or accept what happened and move on. The pain of pleasure and pleasure of pain.  
His voice ghosts against my ear, “You want me to fuck you again?”  
My heartbeat picks up and all I can muster is, “Mhm.”  
There’s a push and a pull rattling my insides as we head back to his dorm. In this moment of borderline haze, I somehow notice how obscure the location of his room is. The room numbers lose its’ count as the hallway we desperately rush down seems to be primarily vacant. It doesn’t shock me that he’s surrounded by such solidarity, and thank fuck he is. I can’t imagine how loud I was that night...  
He shuts the door behind us as he attacks my lips. My eyes squeeze shut as anxiety threatens to get under my skin. No, I want him now. I swear I do… I have to. I grasp the bottom of his shirt and slide it over his head. He quickly does the same with mine. The deep resistance makes my chest tighten and it frustrates me. I pull him in, running my tongue around the shell of his ear before kissing his neck. He lightly snickers at my actions. My hands run through his soft hair and I take deep breaths again and again. His hands are at my pants, quickly unbuttoning before slipping them down. He goes back to kissing me, moving my body to the edge of the bed.  
He shoves me just enough so that I fall against the mattress as he then slides off his own pants. It’s difficult to see his bare chest in the dim light with the shades drawn. I never got to really look at him. I don’t protest having the lights off, but there’s an echoing discomfort in the air. It was almost like this that night, but before I can think much more about it, his body hovers over mine. I run my hands along his back as our mouths connect. His crotch grinds against mine for a few moments. He’s so hard and I’m just now getting there. He gets off of me; hands immediately grabbing the rim of my boxers and pulling them off.  
“Turn over and get on your hands and knees.” He demands.  
There’s an aching feeling as I cooperate. I’m too nervous to suggest another position, and I feel slightly defeated. I thought this time would be different, but it’s soon enough feeling too much the same. The only difference is, I’m not completely broken… just disappointed. I watch as his dim figure grabs lubricant out of the bottom drawer.  
My face starts to feel hot, realizing it doesn’t have to mirror that evening as much as I think it does. When he climbs onto the bed, I ask him, “Could you prep me this time?”  
“Course….” He musters.  
“You just…” I can’t keep my mouth shut, “you didn’t do it the first time.”  
“I couldn’t help myself.” He says. I can feel his presence closer behind me, “It was just so hot…” One of his fingers slip inside me, “the way you killed that mother fucker.”  
My hands drop to my elbows as I let out a noise. I don’t want to think about his comment, so I just try to take in the feeling of his now second finger sliding into me. The ease comes quickly as I push back into his hand just to feel his digits move in deeper. He retracts soon enough and I stay in my new position. My breath shakes against the still air, and maybe it’s not as bad as I thought it could be. I just… wish I could look at his face.  
I feel his hands adjusting my hips. My jaw tightens as I look at the sheets below me. They’re as white as his walls. I grip my hands into fists as I feel his cock push inside me. I let out a soft moan as he quickly builds up a rhythm. There’s still a slight discomfort amongst the pleasure, but it’s okay. He pushes in deep enough to hit my prostate and I let out a slur of moans amongst curses. I let my eyes stay shut for a majority of the time. I hear a soft moan turn into elongated grunt from Ryan as his hands wrap around my cock. I can feel myself getting close as Ryan’s thrusts become sporadic and his seed fills me. My orgasm hits and I release a loud noise of pleasure.  
I collapse onto my stomach as I lay my head to the side facing him. He’s leaning back, propping himself up with his elbows. He cracks his neck as I admire his profile. He turns to look at me, but I don’t have a satisfactory expression to exemplify. I can’t muster a smirk or a smile. I just feel relaxed and slightly disappointed. Any feelings of lust and excitement were completely shadowed by strains of nervousness and borderline trauma recollection. If anything, this was just a quick fuck to him. Nothing reassures an opposite truth when I reach out to him and he immediately gets up.  
I can’t muster a word as I watch him slip on his boxers. I just stare at him before I adjust myself to lay on my side. He looks back at me, and somehow I feel embarrassed. I avert my gaze and look to his sheets. I note the subtle stain of my come and feel whatever’s left of the light residue on my stomach. It feels dirty and unsatisfactory when my left leg falls slightly over my right. His lube and come once again sit inside me and the one word that keeps rushing through my head is regret. I muster up strength to look at him again as he puts back on his clothes. I don’t move throughout this process as I wait for him to look at me again. There’s a deep sense to plead for more from him. This disconnect is almost infuriating now.  
He looks at me again as his eyes cast up and down my figure. I just want him to come over and kiss me. That disappointment threatens to turn into desperation. I just want to touch myself again and give him an excuse to fuck me right.  
But then he says, “Get your clothes on. I have work to do.”  
It hurts, but I do what he says. I want to say something, but mustering anything seems like a waste of time. There’s too much running through my head. I take my time getting dressed all while continuously glancing over to him while he takes out a couple notebooks and a laptop.  
When I’m finally dressed, my feet find their way to his door. I look back at him again as he sits at the edge of his bed organizing his stuff. I fight myself in this moment. I should just leave, but something holds me back.  
“Ryan.” I say, for no rhyme or reason.  
“Yes.” He says, turning on his computer.  
I slowly lick my bottom lip as he does a double take. His eyes have a hold on mine now, but my mouth stays closed and my body stays put.  
Before I force myself to just say goodbye, he gets up off his bed and hastily walks over to me. His hand holds the back of my head as he kisses me. It’s long and deep; my heart is racing. A noise escapes my lips because this is what I want: That reassuring little something that this isn’t nothing.  
When he stops kissing me, he says, “I do have to get shit done.”  
“Yeah, of course.” I nod. I don’t feel as disappointed anymore. 

~~~

Sunday rolls around and I’m stalling on a project due tomorrow. Dallon isn’t here, so I give myself the green light to fill the place with smoke. I bring one of my joints to my lips and take a deep inhale. I turn on the TV just to channel surf for a while. It’s too early in the day for something good to be on, so I just let the news play. I also keep debating on whether or not I should text Ryan. There’s nothing I really want to say, but it’s an impulse to keep glancing at my phone just to see if anything happens. A report comes on about a strange series of missing persons. I laugh to myself, knowing it’s one of the members of the club… or me.  
Then I hear the buzz of my phone:

_Meet me outside the 300s building tomorrow at 6. It’s been awhile, we should talk._

____

I just respond with:

_Kay._

__

I take another long drag and sigh. Patrick. He’s going to want to talk about what happened. All that crazy ass shit. I laugh to myself. He shouldn’t care as much as he does, I have this under control. He’ll just criticize me anyway. I embrace this hazy state, because it’s my best therapy. I pout, remembering I only have 2 joints left. I should also invest in booze, but I’m not old enough to get any. Maybe I should ask Dallon to buy me some and owe him back or something. Eventually, I get back to my project and embrace a soon-to-be lack of sleep. 

_~~~_

Monday. Second Period. I allow myself to sit next to an empty seat soon to be occupied by Ryan. When he walks into the room, I get a surge of butterflies in my stomach.  
He sees me and I say, “Hey.”  
“Hey.” He replies, before taking his seat next to me.  
It’s silent for the rest of the time before the professor starts class, and I don’t know if I should kick myself for that. Every once and awhile I do ask Ryan questions about yet another project that would be due for the midterm. It’s weird watching how nonchalaunt he is about everything. Granted, he is a killer, so feelings are minimal. Just, the way he kissed me over the weekend… there was something there. Maybe he just doesn’t want to illustrate these things publically, no matter how minimal it may be. Still, his poker face has me overthinking.  
When class ends, I’m halfway out the door until I realize that Ryan must have a free period right now too. I move back into the classroom a bit and watch as he collects his stuff. Dallon then walks by me and I acknowledge his existence with a small smile and a nod.  
When the brown haired boy walks over to me, I say, “I assume you have a free period too.”  
“Yeah I do.” He says as we both slowly walk across the campus.  
“What do you usually do at this time?” I ask.  
“Nothing much.” He says.  
“Oh,” I start, “yeah I’m usually not doing much either. Maybe we could-”  
He walks in front of me before pulling at my collar, leading me down one of the building’s halls. He pushes me against the wall and attacks my lips. I let out a soft hum when his lips press against my neck. I look around to see if anyone is walking by, and thankfully no one is.  
“C’mon.” He says, before we head to his dorm. 


	9. Bloodstream

Ryan shuts the door quickly behind us as we get back to kissing. There’s a comfort in the sunshine rushing through the blinds as he undoes my pants. He’s moving too quickly, and we have such a long time before lunch.  
“There’s an hour and a half before lunch, we don’t have to rush this.” I say softly as his lips press against my neck.   
“I have shit to do.” He says as he tugs my pants to my ankles. I kick them off.   
He kisses me, but I stop him, mildly confused and slightly shocked, “Wait, really?”  
“Yes.” There’s an annoyed expression growing on his face.   
“Maybe we could-”  
“Strip before you say anything else.” He commands, crossing his arms.   
I do as he says, feeling more irritated than anything, and continue, “We both have the same project from the same… class.” It’s hard to speak with his hand around my cock.   
“We could,” I take a breath, absorbing his touch, “work on that after…”   
He takes my shoulders and positions my body in front of the bed, “Fine.” He musters, before pushing me roughly onto the mattress, “Turn over.”  
Those words hit me in the worst way, and I refuse to accept it, “I want to look at you this time.”  
“I don’t have to fuck you right now.” He says, once again crossing his arms.   
“Ryan… c’mon.” He's acting like this is my idea, when he was the one to push me against that wall. I have an irking suspicion that his insecurities are talking, and that turns me on even further. I continue, “What’s wrong with looking at you while you fuck me?” I pose for him, putting on my best bedroom eyes before licking my lips.   
“Turn over…” He says again.  
“No.” Immediately slips out of my mouth.   
“Get your clothes on-”  
“Ryan!” I whine, crawling across the bed. I get up on my knees and throw my arms around his neck before he can walk away, “Please.” I say, now pressing my lips desperately against his neck before moving to his jaw and finally his lips.   
We don’t kiss for long before he removes my arms from around his neck. I keep close to him, though, and continue with my pleads, “I want you so badly. I want to wrap my legs around you. I want to see your gorgeous face when you come.”   
I press my body against his and kiss him again. He stops me and says, “Okay…”   
I can’t help but smirk. I bite my bottom lip immediately to simmer the expression. I sit back on the bed and watch as he takes off his clothes. I’m almost mesmerized by it, looking at every inch of his gradually exposed skin. His figure is so slim and pale, but I still think he’s gorgeous. As he moves over to me, I notice the various scars on his upper torso and stomach. His lips quickly find mine as our bodies connect. My fingertips trail along his back as he pushes his pelvis down into mine. I don’t mind the aching pressure being prolonged if it means holding him longer. He gets off of me a little too soon as he gets his lube from the drawer. I watch him squeeze the liquid onto his fingers.   
His lips find mine as his pointer finger slips in me. I let out a soft moan against his touch. We keep kissing as another digit makes its way in. I push up against his fingers and let out another moan. He slips his fingers out and proceeds to apply the glossy liquid to his erection. It’s a lot hotter actually watching him do it. He comes back in with a few more kisses before adjusting my hips. My mouth hangs agap when he enters me. I instantly wrap my feet around his lower back as his chest falls closer to mine. His face is still seemingly expressionless as he moves in and out of me. He starts to push in deeper and pick up the pace.  
“Fuck...” I moan louder. My hands fall to his back as I let my nails drag at his skin.   
He raises his chest from mine for a moment as his pace slows. I can see the marks on his body closer now, and I can’t help but place one of my hands on his chest. He immediately grasps my palm and shoves it back on the bed. Before I question his action, his thrusts speed up again as he gives me a deep kiss. His breath gets staggered against my lips as his hand grasps my cock. That warm feeling builds in the pit of my stomach. I watch as his eyes fall shut and his head tilts back. He lets out a soft noise and I soon enough feel my own orgasm hit, and fuck, it hits hard.   
“Holy fucking shit.” I curse, and my body is practically shaking.   
Ryan pulls out of me as his hands run through his hair. I let my body relax as I just look at him for a while. He looks so good resting on his legs. The light hits his body just right. I say, “Ry…” and take out my hand, hoping his fingers will lace through mine for a moment.   
He looks at my gesture, but doesn’t move. I give him puppy dog eyes and knock my legs against his knees. He nearly rolls his eyes before taking my hand. I pull him next to me and hold his face before kissing him.   
“Okay, alright.” He says between kisses before removing my hands from his face.   
I watch him get off the bed and collect his clothes. God, he won’t even cuddle me for a damn minute? Stubborn… but I’ll get through to him. I know I can. His hesitation to face me is a wall now broken down. I wonder what else could change about him if he really starts to fall for me. Such a thought may still seem far fetched, but I’m not quitting here.   
“Can I use your shower?” I ask a semi-dressed Ryan as I get up off the bed.   
“Sure.” He says.   
I collect my clothes and head into his bathroom. I make the session quick, just taking the time to wash my body. When I step out, I use what I can only assume to be Ryan’s towel. I smile to myself, hoping he doesn’t mind. I get as dry as I can before slipping my clothes on. When I step outside the bathroom, I see Ryan with his work already out on the bed. I walk near the front of the room and take my items before sitting next to him. I’m so dazed by what just happened that I can’t focus on jack shit.   
“Are we really just going to work?” I ask, sitting close enough for our arms to touch.   
“You suggested this.” He says.   
I place my mouth against his clothed shoulder and just hover there before playfully biting him.   
He moves his shoulder, almost to shake me off, “What are you doing?”   
I giggle, “Nothing.”  
He turns to actually look at me, and I swear there’s a growing smile on his face. I move in closer and he kisses me. There’s something lively in the moment. I can feel myself growing jittery like I just got my first kiss from a middle school crush. Every little thing he gives into makes him seem just a little more human. The intimidation is getting torn down piece by piece. I’m addicted to this growing trust and warm light still shining through the window.   
I put my arms around his neck, “I don’t want to do work right now.”  
He sighs, “Brendon.”  
“What?” I say, putting a big smile on my face.   
“Half an hour at least.” He says.   
“Till what?” I ask.  
He takes my arms from around his neck and puts them by my sides. He gets up to go to the bathroom before I can try again to get an answer out of him. I decide to just let things be for now as I take out my own work. Half an hour… fine I can tolerate that.   
Twenty minutes in, and it surprisingly feels worth it. Ryan is pretty damn smart, I should commend him for actually wanting to do shit for school. It starts to feel strange for a moment. Everything feels so normal. Afternoon sex and homework with my boy… friend… boyfriend. Granted, it hasn’t been said, but this is the second- third time we’ve done it. I doubt he’s been with anyone else.   
“Hey Ryan.” I ask. Fuck, I already want to retract my burning question.   
“Hm.” He says.   
“Nevermind.” I run my hands through my hair a couple times just to get myself to calm down a bit.  
“Alright.” He responds.   
No, I’m not gonna take that, “Are we… uh.” Fucking say it, you loser, “boyfriends?”  
He laugh a bit and looks at me, “You’re a good fuck, but I wouldn’t slap a label on this.”  
“Why not?” I ask.   
He closes his laptop before focusing on me again, “Because I don’t do relationships. I like to fuck around sometimes, but besides that…”  
I reach for his left hand and turn it over to stroke his palm, “You like this… you like me, don’t you?”   
He moves his stuff out of the way before crawling to the middle end of the bed. He grips my ankles and tugs my body towards him. He puts his knee between my legs and takes my hands to raise above my head.   
He says, “I like your ass and your cock.” He comes in and kisses me, tongue immediately slipping in my mouth. His crotch falls against mine, and I’m already getting hard again.   
“I like your submission and the sounds you make.” He lets go of my hands and I let them fall to my sides as his mouth is against my neck. He rubs against me again and I push my hips up. I let out a whine when I feel my skin in his teeth. He runs his hand up my shirt and drags his nails down my chest. I really like the way it burns. I push my hips up against his a little harder and let out a pleased noise.   
He undoes my pants just enough to slide his hand inside my boxers. His lips are still on my neck as he strokes me slowly. When his eyes do hit mine again, I admire how beautiful they are. His breath is a bit heavy as his almost red lips are semi-parted. His hair hangs across his face so nicely. God, why don’t we be mother fucking boyfriends….   
He lowers himself on me, pulling my pants down low enough to expose my throbbing member. His eyes lock with mine again before he takes me in his mouth. I let my head fall back against the pillow as I release a soft moan. He alternates between bobbing his head and licking up my shaft. It’s driving me crazy and I come not too long after that. He then zips down his own pants and I return the favor. I’ve never sucked cock prior to this, but the small sounds from Ryan’s mouth surely mean I’m doing something right. His seed eventually hits the back of my throat. It’s oddly bitter, but I swallow. I get back up to his level and kiss him. He retracts quickly and pulls back up his pants before getting off the bed. I just sit there feeling more than satisfied about this afternoon.   
We stay relatively quiet for the rest of the time just to get some more work done. A few minutes before the bell is supposed to ring, I use his bathroom again just to take a quick piss. When I get to washing my hands, I glance in the mirror and notice the small hickies on my neck. They’re subtle but visible, and I can’t help but smirk.   
We both head out together and I feel motivated enough to actually get something to eat. I say to Ryan, “Come with me to get something?”   
“Sure.” He says.   
“Cool.” I smile.   
I pick up a turkey and cheese sandwich as we both head to our table. We sit next to each other this time, and I’m sure Dallon won’t mind. I eat my food and watch as the others start to show up. I let my right leg softly bounce against Ryan’s left, and he doesn’t reciprocate the action nor protest against it.   
Gerard looks at me quizzically, but I refrain from asking why. He eventually says, “So Bren, had a little fun lately?” while pointing at his neck to allude to mine.   
I almost blush and can’t help but glance at Ryan, “Yeah.” I say.   
Gerard picks up on the signs and looks at Ryan then back to me. He raises his eyebrows, “You two, huh?”  
It’s silent for a moment as everyone’s eyes zone in on me and Ryan. I push my knuckles around shyly under the table and just wait for the brown haired boy to say something. Surely enough…  
“Yeah, we’re fucking. End of discussion.” It’s blatant and monotone, but official.   
It’s hard not to grin from ear to ear. There’s no way he didn’t expect that to happen after purposefully marking me. He wants to show me off and he definitely wanted them to know. Sure, I could have just made up some lie, but any one of them could have been bound to figure it out eventually.   
I can’t help but think about the afternoon as I go through the rest of the day. Feeling okay for once is a relief, and with him especially. Granted, it’s a club day tomorrow, so that easy feeling won’t stay. I then check my phone. It’s 5:45. Oh shit, Patrick. I head out to the spot he said we should meet, and I correct myself. Give it less than a half an hour and this good feeling will definitely disappear.   
I stand in front of the 300s building and Patrick is already 5 minutes late. Eventually, I see him walking quickly around the corner.   
He sees me and says, “Hey.” before stopping a few feet away.   
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask him, because I’d rather just be in my room.  
He shakes his head and raises his eyebrows like he’s in shock that I didn’t already have some grand speech planned, “You had…” He lowers his voice and inches a tad bit closer to me, “your first kill didn’t you?”  
“Yeah, I did, a little while ago. Ryan went on the job with me.” I say, trying my best not to actually think about it.   
“Are you okay?” He asks.   
I say, “No,” I add, “can’t say it was all bad, though.” The first night isn’t running through my head, of course it’s not. I don’t want to tell him about that. He’s bound to notice my hickies any second now anyway.   
“What do you…” He squints his eyes like he’s trying to make sense of what I’ve said, “Did you and Ryan…? Oh god.” He says, shaking his head and averting his gaze.   
“Score on my part.” I tell him with a smirk, because there’s truth to that.   
“Jesus Christ… okay whatever fine… fine.” He pauses, “Did you at least want it?”   
I don’t understand why he’s asking that, so I reply with, “Why wouldn’t I?”  
“Was it that night? That you did what you did… and you were okay enough to say yes to…” He quiets down again, “having sex with him?”  
I feel uneasy in that moment and get out a, “Yeah... mhm.”  
“You’re really not the same person I met.” He says, looking cautious.   
“What is that supposed to mean?” I feel mildly offended that he would look at me any differently. I’m terribly fucking scarred. I didn’t turn into some kind of monster overnight if that’s what he might be thinking.  
“Having the willingness and sanity to sleep with someone after something like that. It’s fucked.”  
“I didn’t like doing what I did. I don’t fucking think about it. Being with Ryan takes away some of that shit, okay?”   
“I don’t understand you.” He exclaims, gesturing his hand towards me like I’m some fucking weirdo on display.   
“This...” I point to him then myself, “is a waste of time, clearly.”  
“Maybe.” He says, a bit calmer this time, “Just… this will bite you in the ass. He’s the leader of the club, need I remind you, and the killings won’t stop here. He could probably resurface the memories as much as you try to push them away. Don’t count on him pursuing anything real or genuine with you either.”  
I scoff, “You don’t know him like I do.”  
He just looks at me with a saddened expression on his face, “I pity you, Brendon. And fine, next time, if you really want to talk, just text me.”  
“Next time? All you do is criticize me, I might as well lose your number.”  
“Well think about this: Pete wouldn’t want another dead body on his conscious. Neither would I even though you push it.”  
I shake my head. For a second, I want to be honest with him. He really gives a shit that fucking much and I’m just pushing it away like I’m fine when I know I can’t be. There is no good time for this, but I’d rather skip out for now. Even if it irritates me, him and Pete are the only sane friends I have… especially if anything goes awry.   
I say, “Okay. I’ll text you next time.”   
“Good.” He nods, “Since you don’t need me right now, I’ll leave.” Before he turns around completely, he adds, “Take care of yourself.”  
“Will do.” I finish. We proceed to go our separate ways.


	10. Psycho Social

It’s Tuesday morning. I’m freshly dressed and although there’s some fault lines running through my conscious, I don’t feel as unsettled as I usually am. I think it’s because of yesterday. That warm feeling of satisfaction sits comfortably in my stomach. The only thing keeping a potential smile at bay is Patrick’s words echoing through my mind. No, this shit isn’t perfect or sane, but I know what I’m after and I think I’m slowly getting there. Ryan is ever so subtly shifting himself into something more open with me.   
The last item of clothing I nearly forget is my letterman jacket. I pull open my drawer and take it out. I stare at the details for a bit before putting it on. Even with the disturbing meaning resting over my body, I don’t let myself give in. I look over to Dallon who has his stuff collected. He sees me and I put a smile on my face.   
“Ready for the day?” I ask.  
He looks away from me, “Sure.”   
Statistics moves by quickly as the session falls into an independent study. I get a jittery feeling when the bell rings and I head to the next class. I’m anxious in a good way to see Ryan. Any negative thoughts dissipate as he walks into the room. I let a smile creep onto my face as he sits next to me.   
“Hey.” I say.   
“Brendon.” He looks at me and gives me a single nod.   
I stare at him quizzically, but let my expression rest, “So about yesterday.” I give him a nudge.   
He looks at me with a blank expression, “What about it?”  
It stings, and I’m more flabbergasted than anything, “Really? I get it, here isn’t the place, but-”  
“Alright, everyone take out your books.” The professor starts.   
I slump in my chair a bit as class gets started. Maybe he is just acting like that because this isn’t the time to talk about it…   
Any sliver of downtime is silent between us, and I let it be until the class comes to an end. I wait for him to gather his stuff as I stand on the outside of our seats. I contemplate words to say, but I continue with the silence as I walk with him to the club. When we get inside the door, Tyler and Josh are in one of the back corners. I don’t care too much about their presence as I turn to Ryan and throw my arms around his neck. I give him a nervous smile as I let our bodies stay a fair distance apart.   
“So… yesterday.” I restate.   
He takes my arms off him, “What do you want me to say about it?”   
“I just… I don’t know. You made us official to everyone amongst other things.”  
“You didn’t give me much of a choice.” He says, flipping through one of the journals at the front desk.   
“I didn’t give you a choice?” I question, “You marked me.”   
“Doesn’t matter now.” He says as he writes stuff down in the notebook.   
“Ryan.” I start, but before I can initiate anything else, the others walk into the room. I distance myself from the brown haired boy and take a seat a few rows back. The meeting consists of job summaries and Gerard doing some research for Josh and Tyler. Even when Ryan isn’t preoccupied, I don’t bother with him. I don’t understand what crawled up his ass and died.   
In the midst of playing some free game that came with my phone, I hear Frank’s voice, “Hey, man.”  
“Hey! What’s up?” I ask.   
“Gerard and I are having a little get together on Friday, feel free to come by.”  
“Sure, as long as there’s booze and drugs, I’m always up for a good time!” I say with a smile.   
“Great! Besides, it’ll be a nice way to get to know each other more.” He also puts on a smile.   
“Absolutely!”   
“Right on, man.” He curls his fingers into a fist and I do the same with mine. We bump knuckles before he goes back to accompanying Gerard.

~~~  


_Entry 6 ___  
_Ryan has been irritatingly distant lately. He won’t even kiss me. This is a total flip flop from Monday and it just… kills me. Yesterday evening when we met for the club session, it almost felt as though he was taunting me merely by his presence. Josh and Tyler were out and Gerard left early. Frank trailed along after cleaning up some weapons and I debated just going to my dorm room. I decided not to, because Dallon had been acting weird lately. I asked him for help with some work for Statistics and he just got up and left. It’s like I hopped into some weird twilight zone. Even when Ryan and I were alone, he didn’t bother with me. Sure, I could have asked why, but I don’t think my efforts would have made an effect. Somehow, I continue to torture myself in second period when I still sit by him. I don’t know what to do. Thankfully, I’m going to Gerard and Frank’s place in a bit. I fucking hope there’s enough drugs and alcohol… I need to get my mind off of this.  
_

__

I double check my text from Frank as I approach one of the dorm’s doors. I knock a couple times before the door opens. Gerard greets me as I walk inside. I can already smell smoke in the air as I see Frank on a queen sized bed with a bottle of beer in his hands. Tyler and Josh are snuggled up on a lengthy couch against the back wall.   
Frank sees me and says, “Hey, Brendon! Whatever you want, just ask for it. We definitely got some good shit.”   
“Awesome!” I say with a smile.   
I look to my immediate left and notice a small circular table with a few chairs. There’s a pack of cards, a half empty bottle of beer, and some cigarettes laying on it. I look back over to Frank who is now accompanied by Gerard.   
“Got any weed?” I ask.   
“Oh yeah, man.” Frank says. He leans over the side of the bed and pulls open a drawer. He takes out a small case of rolled joints and I walk over to retrieve one. I don’t hesitate as I slide the stick between my lips. Frank pulls out a lighter that sits between him and Gerard and smoothly flicks the edge to ignite it. I bend over to catch the flames.   
I take a long drag, “Thanks.” I say while letting the smoke exhale my lungs.   
“No problem.” Frank nods.   
“So, you and Ryan.” Gerard says.   
“Yeah.” I say, trying not to sound too terribly disappointed.   
“Ever since he pushed you up against that wall, I knew you two would eventually get it on.” He says, getting up for a moment to grab his beer.   
“Really?” I look towards Gerard with a raised eyebrow.   
“Oh yeah, he tends to rough up people he’s interested in.” He puts the bottle to his mouth and takes a sip.   
“Ryan’s been… distant lately.” I take another long drag, unsure if I regret being honest.  
“Might be because he’s working on a case. He tends to isolate himself. Don’t take it to heart.” Gerard says.   
“Okay.” I reply.   
“Pull up a chair, Brendon.” Frank says, motioning his hand towards the table.   
I drag one of the wooden chairs up to the end of the bed. While I do so, I look back over to Josh and Tyler who now have their attention on me.   
It feels awkward, so I just say, “Hey, Tyler and Josh.” nodding ever so attentively.   
“Hey.” Josh says through tired eyes and a light smile.   
Tyler lets out a weakened, “Hi.” with seemingly no expression although his eyes are a bit wide.   
It’s quiet for a while as I look back to Gerard and Frank. Their hips are touching as their legs are sprawled out in front of them. Frank is lightly tracing circles on Gerard’s palm. I’m almost jealous of their relationship. They act like they’ve been together for a while and it seems so content.   
I ask, “How did you two meet?”  
“Highschool.” Frank says, “I was in a gang.” He looks to Gerard with somber eyes.  
“His gang killed my brother. Didn’t take much digging to find out.” Gerard says.  
Frank continues, “I became close friends with Gee that year and Mikey, his brother, was more of an acquaintance. When it happened and after he found out, he almost beat me to death, but I let him know that I never wanted his brother to get hurt.”  
“It felt like a betrayal on both ends, so we teamed up and took down Frank’s gang. I had never wanted to kill so badly in my life. It got thrilling and we got close. The rest is pretty much history.” Gerard finishes, looking at Frank lovingly.   
I avert my gaze and put the blunt to my lips. I let them have their moment as I just try to process their story. Damn…   
Silence fills the air again as I prompt another question, “So how did you two join the club?”   
“It was last year in my Behavioral Psychology class.” Gerard starts, “Ryan was in it with me, and he approached me once during the passing period. He took note of the scars on my face and said he’d faced some hell in his life. I let myself open up to him. I obviously strung Frank along and he told us about the club he was trying to revamp.”   
“Is Ryan pretty good at that… just finding people who might fit into The Scarlet Society?” I ask.   
“Oh yeah. He picked us misfits out well. Course within the last few months he just wanted to grab who he could. I don’t blame him for wanting more members, but I personally don’t mind this tight knit group. Besides, with you joining, I think he’ll take a break from forcing anymore hands.”   
“Really? I’m just one person.” I say.   
“It seems like he wants to be focused on you... in more ways than one.” Frank winks.   
Well it doesn’t seem like it. I keep that thought to myself as I just shyly shrug.   
“Hey, want to play some cards?” Gerard asks.   
“Sure.” I say.   
I move back to the table as Gerard and Frank come over and we all establish a game we’d like to play. We settle on Gin Rummy. I haven’t played in a while, so I lose the first session. It’s a lot of fun just chatting and doing something fairly normal amongst a room full of murderers. After a while, Josh comes over and asks to join the session. It’s like him and Tyler are glued at the hip because even though Tyler seems disinterested, he has an arm wrapped around Josh’s as he stares at the cards in the black haired boy’s hand.   
Gerard and Frank seem to lower their voices, so I follow suit, although I’m immediately curious as to why.   
At one point, the buzz haired boy reaches out to adjust the cards Josh sets down after he makes a play. He silently narrates the scene to himself to process Josh’s move and I can’t help but stare at his arm. It’s completely covered in scars. Some deep, some thin, and there’s a significant amount of fresh ones. All of them look self inflicted. I swallow hard, now more curious than ever as to why he did that to himself. He’s the strangest amongst everyone, and I guess the saddest as well.   
I can see Tyler’s eyes cast over to mine and I look away.   
“Well that was fun.” Gerard concludes with a smile on his face since he’s won for the second time.   
“Sure was.” Josh says with a smile.   
“I never got to ask about you guys.” I say in Josh’s direction.  
Josh looks to me, “Oh… well I don’t mind talking about it. Tyler, you’re fine with me telling Brendon our story?” He looks over to Tyler who gives him a slow nod.  
“Well, in highschool I had associated with individuals who smuggled various drugs. I didn’t have a lot of money, and when my grandma got sick I wanted to do everything I could for her. I ended up being a member of the group, but eventually noticed how sketchy it was, so I tried to leave. It was a bad idea, so I made my attempts at running away from them and eventually came across a burning treehouse near a backyard surrounded by grass and tall trees. I saw a boy standing beside said treehouse.”  
“That was me.” Tyler says with his eyes cast near the ground, “a voice in my head… he’s much quieter now, but at the time he told me to burn my dog so I did it.”   
Josh wraps his arm tightly around Tyler, placing a quick kiss to the side of the boy’s head. Josh continues the story, “I’m such a caretaker at heart that when I saw him again at this school, I made sure I was by his side. I learned he was schizophrenic and manic depressive and that his parents didn’t believe in mental illness. He was also a part of the club at the time and he told me about a life he took.”  
“It was Blurryface. He told me to do it. Ryan saw me do it, and he helped me take care of what happened.” Tyler says, there’s a crack in his voice like he’s about to cry.   
There’s a pause before Josh looks back to me, “He calls the voice in his head Blurryface. He used to see it manifest into a figure with an obscure meshed face, thus the name. A good few months went by where I had to find a dealer to get the medication he needed. That voice was telling Tyler to take my life as well as his own, so times got rough. I also dealt with getting back at the members of the group from high school. My biggest focus was on Tyler throughout all of that… I managed to get what I needed for him, but he still has bad days. I never thought this would be my truth, but as long as I can keep him safe, that’s all I really care about.”  
“And God…” Tyler pauses, “God will forgive us.”  
I just now notice the thin chain hanging around his neck. I watch as he grabs the cross between his fingers.   
Josh softens his voice further and talks to me a bit more closely, “Tyler’s parents were heavily religious, and that carried on to him. Belief is something that helps to keep him going.”  
“I see…” Is all I can muster. I can’t begin to imagine what Josh has gone through… not knowing if your partner is going to kill you or themselves…   
“Josh and Tyler have special circumstances for the club.” Frank says, “They kill for survival or by circumstance. The club is a safe space for them. Gee and I kill just for the thrill of it, although we can still be driven by revenge.”  
I ask, “What about Ryan and Dallon?”  
“You’d have to ask them that. They’re both so cryptic, but they’re the most ruthless out of all of us. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dallon was a psychopath. No one fucks with him.”  
“Does he also get distant with jobs too?” I ask, “He’s been pretty much ignoring me the last few days.”   
“Oh no, that definitely wouldn’t be the reason for why he’s distancing himself from you.” Gerard says.   
I’m almost afraid to ask, “What is it, then?”  
“Well…”  
Frank interrupts, “You took his man.”  
I feel a knot in my stomach, “I… what?”  
Gerard playfully pushes Frank’s shoulder, “Ryan and Dallon were uncomfortably close last year. Ryan clearly didn’t have feelings as opposed to Dallon. At one point they were a bit too close, it got awkward, and then they just stayed friends. Dallon acts like he has this claim over Ryan even to this day, so he probably doesn’t like that you’re with him.”  
“Oh…” I say. Great, I love when things get complicated.   
“Don’t worry too much about it. Not like he’s going to kill you or anything.” Frank says.   
That didn’t feel reassuring in the slightest, “Right.”   
Gerard says, “Don’t worry. If the relationship you have with Ryan continues, he’ll be the one to beat Dallon’s ass if he tries anything. I don’t think Dallon would bother anyway because he’s very compliant when it comes to Ryan’s commands and expectations.”   
“Well, I mean… if something happened between me and Ryan that doesn’t end well…”  
“Ryan would kick your ass. He never needs anyone to do extra lifting, even if Dallon offered relentlessly.”  
I awkwardly clear my throat, “Good to know.”   
The evening eventually comes to an end, and I feel anxious going back to my room. I definitely can’t look at Dallon the same.


	11. Desperation

Long stolen glances and nearly touching shoulders have been driving me fucking crazy. It’s been a week and he still has the audacity to distance himself from me. One week since he and I had some damn good sex and all I’ve been doing is writing down my frustrations and jacking it in the shower. What the fuck could possibly be more important than spending time with me?  
Killing.  
Right.  
With a joint between my lips and the ever growing frustration chewing at my insides, I just stare up at the ceiling. I have an assignment I’ve been procrastinating on, but for some reason I clearly can’t be bothered.  
It’s like the overwhelming build up of too much at once where you decide to drop everything… except I’m not overwhelmed, I’m just sick of waiting.  
I sit up and open the text messages between he and I on my phone. It’s sad:  
_Hey, are you doing anything tonight?_  
_Got any free time? Maybe I can come by._  
_Ryan… I’ve been thinking about you._  
I take a long drag while squeezing my phone hard between my fingers. I picture that last time as the smoke exhales my lungs. I look to the side and acknowledge Dallon’s continuing absence. I lay the joint across my ashtray as my head falls back to my pillow. The images of Ryan’s body hovering over mine run through my head. I sigh, letting my hand fall near my crotch. I curl my toes in. An idea hits me… no I couldn’t… well.  
“Fuck it.” I say, before putting out the joint and getting off my bed.  
He’ll quit avoiding me after this, I think, before slipping my shoes on and leaving the dorm. I don’t even care that I’ll be showing up in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants.  
My heart is racing as I get closer and closer to his room. God, I should have finished that joint. No, it’s better this way. The back and forth conflict is making my head swim, but my feet are now stationed in front of his door. My palms are sweating as I take a deep breath and knock a few times.  
“Ryan, it’s me.”  
Silence. I knock again, “C’mon… please.” He has to be there, it’s almost 10pm on a damn Monday. I press my ear against the door and hear the multiple clicks of fingers on a keyboard.  
“You’re in there. I’m not leaving.” I say.  
The sound stops. I don’t say another word and I hear the sound of the door unlock. I’m confused when no action proceeds after that. Before I say or do anything, I hear Ryan’s voice at a distance, “It’s unlocked.”  
My mind nearly separates from my body when I open the door and glance inside. Ryan is sitting on his bed in a loose grey v-neck and black boxers. His hair is curly and damp. Fuck, he looks good. I walk inside slowly and shut the door; he doesn’t look at me. I swallow hard. No, c’mon, don’t be nervous, I tell myself. He’ll pay attention soon enough. I stand a few feet back from the edge of the bed across from him.  
Before I can overthink this, I quickly pull off my shirt and throw it on the floor. Now I get his attention as his eyes glance over to me. His expression is still muted and he doesn’t say a word. I bite my bottom lip as I keep his gaze for a few more seconds. He furrows his brows tiredly as he looks back to his work.  
“What are you doing?” He seemingly mumbles in a monotone voice.  
I try to relax as I then slip off my sweats and toss them by my shirt. I relax my eyes and continue to stare at him. He looks back over briefly, exhaling a brief chuckle, but then he looks again. His eyes are cast down below my stomach, I’m at least semi-hard. I swallow nonexistent saliva, my mouth is embarrassingly dry. I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip regardless.  
Ryan looks away again and my thumb immediately falls under my waistband. A subtle smirk grows on my face as my hand snakes inside my boxers. I wait for him to inevitably look back over before I really start to touch myself. He’s watching me now, and I catch his tongue quickly dart across his lips. I take my hand out and grasp both sides of the fabric before pulling them down and lightly kicking them off to the side.  
My lips are parted as I glance down my body. I slowly wrap my hand around my cock and stroke myself slowly. Once a rhythm is set, I look back up to him. I swing my head to the side and lift my chin up a little. I let soft sounds escape my lips. I even have a moment where I close my eyes, all while he just stares. I want to stroke myself faster as a subtle pleasure builds, but I don’t want to come too soon.  
All of the sudden, Ryan says, “Stop.”  
I do what he says and let myself go. He sets his computer to the side as he gets up, and oh… he’s very hard. He moves so close to me, I can smell the light scent of conditioner recently rinsed from his hair. He’s close enough to kiss… I inch closer.  
Before his lips reach mine, he says, “Threatening to spill on my carpet, huh…”  
My ears feel hot, “I…”  
He immediately drops to his knees, and before I can anticipate anything, his mouth is around my cock. My breath hitches before I let out a sound. He bobs his head and strokes me at the same time.  
“Oh fuck.” I curse. I don’t know what to do with my hands, and I can’t help but run my fingers through Ryan’s curls. I then buckle my hips, feeling the anticipation of my rising orgasm. My hand falls against his wall just so I can maintain some balance. I come quickly and let out a whine which turns into a moan.  
I look back at Ryan who gets up and grabs a nearby trashcan to spit my seed in. He wipes his mouth before walking back over to me. My breath is heavy, and inside I’m such a mess. He stands close enough for me to kiss him, so I try again. Our lips touch and my hands rise up to the side of his face just to really bring him in. It doesn’t last as his hands go to my shoulders and I feel him push me back a little.  
He slips down his own boxers before his hands are back on my shoulders just to push me down. I get on my knees and take his cock in my mouth. I move forward and back only a few times before angling his member up just a bit before sliding my tongue up his shaft. My eyes look up at him as my tongue flicks over his slit. He’s trying so hard not to make a noise, but his breath hitches.  
He roughly grabs my hair, “Don’t tease me.” He says, almost breathlessly.  
My mouth goes back around him now as his hand still grips my hair. He leads me into it, setting up his own pace.  
“You couldn’t have waited… one more day.” He says, before using his hips and thrusting into my mouth. I nearly gag, but hold it together. He lets out a noise, and I feel his come in my mouth. I swallow, like last time. The same bizzare taste. I slowly get back up to my feet and look at him.  
“One more day?” I ask.  
He pulls back up his boxers, “I would have called tomorrow.”  
“Really?”  
He just shakes his head, “I’ll have to rethink that.”  
“Ry…” I try to take his hand, but he pulls back in protest.  
“Coming in unannounced and putting me on my knees. No one puts me on my knees.” His hand rises up; his long fingers snake around my neck, “What am I supposed to do with you?”  
He presses his fingers in, nearly restricting my airway, I get out, “Do whatever you want to me.” His grip begins to relax. I add, “Just don’t ignore me anymore. Please.”  
His hand drops to his side, “You’re lucky your desperation turns me on.”  
I look away from him now, nearly blushing. I spot my clothes and quickly retrieve them from the ground. I don’t really know how to reply to that as I end up clothed in no time. Ryan is just sitting at the edge of his bed, looking at me every once and awhile.  
He says, “I do have stuff to finish. I’ll text you tomorrow.”  
“Yeah?” I say, with wide eyes.  
“Yeah.” He says.  
I nearly smile, but bite my lip instead, “Okay.”  
I turn to leave, but before I reach the door, I look back at him, “Your hair is hot like that, by the way.”  
He nearly breaks into a smile, I can tell, “Bye, Brendon.”  
“Bye.” I say, leaving with a grin on my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for taking so long to post a short update that's basically just a porny interlude, but it's for character shiz I swear.


	12. I Do What I Want

The word ‘tomorrow’ echoes into ‘today’ as I get my things together for first period. I’m in the middle of feeling giddy, but also nearing the edge of throwing myself into a subspace. It’s almost embarrassing how desperate I am, and I’m not sure if I can prepare myself for what may come later. I told him he could do anything to me… anything. I never got that work done from yesterday, but I don’t care. Even Dallon’s presence doesn’t phase me. He carries this elephant in the room, and although it’s awkward and intimidating, there’s a security blanket draped over my shoulders.  
By the time I’m seated in second period, Ryan walks in with his hair straightened as it usually is. I guess it was just a special opportunity to catch his wavy locks right after a shower last night. He sits next to me and I give him a warm smile. He acknowledges me with a nod and a light smile. I let the interaction rest there because I know I don’t have to be reassured that tonight is still happening.  
When we head to the club, I keep in close proximity of him the whole time. It makes me happy that he isn’t pushing me away. Maybe I do need to juice out some validation. If anything, it’s refreshing that his demeanor is calm. His stern but relaxed character stays unbreakable, no matter what little comments I say or actions I pull. I’d like to think he’s just taking the time to absorb my presence again. I do take a seat, however, when the meeting for the week begins.  
“Any new jobs this week?” Ryan asks.  
Dallon says, “I have a possible bounty case. Still working on it.”  
“How much?” Ryan asks.  
“Around 10k.” He replies.  
I look in Dallon’s direction with wide eyes. Now I’m wondering how much money he has in his possession. I can’t imagine this is his first time killing someone for cash. Then that makes me imagine how much Ryan has. Finally, I realize the lack of money I have, but would I do something like that?  
Ryan continues to question Dallon, “Would the target have backup?”  
“Most likely.” Dallon says.  
“By Thursday, let me know if you need a partner for the job. I know you can handle yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to get it done faster.” Ryan says.  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He says.  
I can smell the awkwardness. Did Ryan just offer to go on a job with Dallon? I could care less if they want to repair their friendship, hell, maybe even Dallon would chill out by the end of it. Still… I feel like the elephant in the room. 

~~~

I tap my pencil repeatedly against my notebook just waiting for Ryan to text me. I’m not focused at all. Soon enough I feel my phone buzz.  


_Come over now._   


I fix my hair up in the bathroom before heading out to his dorm.  
I stand in front of his door and knock a few times. My heart is racing. He opens the door and I get out a quick, “Hey.”  
He doesn’t say anything, but motions me inside. I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, “So, what are you gonna do to me tonight?”  
He slowly walks over to me, and I lick my lips. He leans in close and I shut my eyes to prepare for a kiss. It doesn’t come as his lips fall by my ear instead, “Take your clothes off and you’ll find out.”  
A chill runs up my spine and I bite my bottom lip. His face falls in front of me again, so I try to initiate a kiss. Our skin just barely grazes before Ryan tugs me back by my hair.  
“No kissing.” He says.  
I nearly pout, “Why-”  
“You do what I want.” He cuts me off with a serious tone.  
“I- yeah, but you don’t want to kiss-”  
“Strip.” Is all he says before walking away and rummaging through his drawers for something.  
I don’t know how to feel about this setting anymore. Sure, I like when he asserts dominance, but no kissing? Goddamn. I keep wondering why as I take off my clothes. As soon as my fingers fall to the rim of my boxers, I pause.  
I then ask, tugging at the last piece of fabric on me, “Want to take these off yourself?”  
He looks back at me, “Sure.”  
I smirk, before climbing onto the bed. I watch as he finally retrieves what he was looking for. It’s… a pair of handcuffs. Well shit.  
“Where’d you get those?” I ask.  
He picks them up and holds them in my direction, “Stole them from a cop.”  
My eyes grow wide, “Wow, uh, nice.”  
“Lay back with your hands up.” He says, so I comply.  
He gets up onto the bed and swings one of his legs over me. His body hovers close to mine as he cuffs one of my wrists and then the other. I tug downwards and feel a resistance. Shit, I almost forgot about his nearly hidden headboard that just about blends into the walls behind it. I wonder if he got it made this subtly because he liked the use over the aesthetic. I should have figured he was kinky like this, but hey, I’m down with most things.  
He rests his crotch against mine as his hand trails down my chest and back up to my face. His pointer finger traces my jawline before pressing against my lips. I open my mouth and his finger slips in. I close my mouth around it and run my tongue against his skin. He pulls his finger out and dries it with the side of my boxers before gripping the hem to peel them off..  
I’m slightly embarrassed when it’s revealed that I’m only semi-hard. Ryan doesn’t seem to mind as he goes over to his drawer again. He takes out a lengthy piece of black cloth and leans over the bed. He wraps it quickly behind my head and makes a tight knot.  
“Well this is getting kinky.” I say with a sly smile.  
I nearly jump when I feel him touch my skin. His thumb inches to my lips as I then take it in my mouth. Instead of just moving his thumb away, he brushes it down my chin with a light pressure, ending at the base of my neck. I can feel his other fingers now, moving down my chest in a whiskful, yet slow, zigzag pattern. His fingers stop just below my stomach and then I feel nothing. I don’t say a word. I move my feet around a bit just to build anticipation. I gasp as his hand wraps around my cock and strokes me roughly.  
I let out a hum in pleasure while subtly arching my hips into his touch, and then he stops.  
“Ry.” I say, through a deep breath.  
He doesn’t say anything, so I just let the silence fill the atmosphere. The ghost of his touch is still present around my sensitive skin, I’m definitely completely turned on now. I hear him shuffling around for something once again. I take slow deep breaths and before I know it, I feel him climb onto the bed.  
“Spread your legs.” He says, and I do it, feeling the skin and hair of his legs brush against my own.  
I then feel something press against my entrance, but it feels different. I let out a noise as the object is pushed completely inside me. It’s not terribly comfortable, but I do my best just to relax my muscles.  
“Ah.” Falls from my mouth as the object starts to vibrate inside me. Holy shit… I curl my toes as the vibration gets stronger.  
All of the sudden, I feel Ryan’s hand close around the end of my shaft barely moving it up and down. His thumb brushes around my tip in a circular motion.  
“Oh fuck.” His tongue runs across my slit a few times, and goosebumps spread across my body.  
He stops, and I whine, balling my hands into fists.  
“Ry... “ I harshly whisper.  
Then the vibrating gets even more intense. I pull my wrists down again and again, fuck these cuffs, “Ryan, please…” I whine. It shocks me how desperate I sound, but this shit is getting too intense. The vibrating lessens and all the focus is back on how hard I am. It’s starting to get painful. That ache… goddamn. The vibration gets intense again and I curse and moan. The intense feeling dampens again. I can feel the sweat threatening to drip down my temples.  
Minutes of this continue, and all I do is plead constantly, “Ryan… please just let me come. Please, holy shit.” I nearly cry. He’s right on me, I knock my legs against his weakly.  
Then the vibration stops and I feel something cold and hard pressed under my chin. I make a noise, letting my adam’s apple bob up and down against it. I get a clear feeling of what it is. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. I hear the gun cock. He’s going to fucking kill me. Right here… while I’m naked and chained to his bed. Oh, what a goddamn way to go out. I hold my breath and harshly squeeze my eyes shut, knowing his finger must be slowly eased against the trigger ready to fire it any fucking second now.  
Ryan starts vigorously stroking me and the gun clicks. I come so fucking hard, I’m nearly seeing stars. The noises out of my mouth are nearly inhuman even after my orgasm subsides. My heart beats tremendously, so clearly, I’m not dead. I just let my body relax for a good minute. Soon enough I feel Ryan untying the cloth around my face. Seeing the light of the room hurts a bit, so I blink and squint for a moment to get used to it. He’s fully clothed just like earlier.  
I look down at myself while he undoes the handcuffs.  
“Did I really come this much?” I say, noticing the immense amount of seed on my stomach.  
“No.” He replies.  
“You… got off on top of me?” I ask, giving attention to my sore wrists once he got the last cuff off.  
“Yeah.” He says.  
I don’t have much of a reaction to that. I didn’t get to see it, and the effort to picture it falls short because I’m still trying to calm down. I sit up, and shift over slightly to remove the toy Ryan put in me. I don’t know what to do with it. I look up to see him walking back from the bathroom and throwing me a towel. I wipe up my stomach in silence before setting the toy on top. He then tosses my boxers onto the bed.  
“Thanks.” I push out. Behind any audible word, I can feel an intense strain of emotions tethered to it. It’s like he pushed me to the edge just enough so I fear the fall. He’s not even near me, but the edge is still there… and I can’t seem to step back that easily. I know I never want to do something like that again. I get my boxers on slowly and just sit cross legged on the bed.  
I watch Ryan take out a blunt and a lighter. He places the stick between his lips and lights it, taking a drag. I just keep looking at him till he notices me. He passes the blunt over and I take a long drag. I give myself a second to prepare anything I want to say next.  
“That was… intense…” I say.  
“You nearly flipped your shit when I had my gun against you. You didn’t actually think it was loaded… right?” He says with soft eyes and raised eyebrows.  
“I-I don’t know.” I hand him back the blunt, feeling sickenly embarrassed.  
He briefly chuckles before taking a drag. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head down on them. I just watch him, and he doesn’t seem to care.  
“Get your stuff, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says.  
God, why does he always pull this shit? I just say, “No.”  
“What?” He looks… irritated. For once, it strikes some ounce of fear in me.  
“Kiss me before kicking me out.” I say. If anything can repair this obvious disconnect, that sure as hell could.  
He just sighs, continuing to smoke, “C’mon.”  
“C’mon? One kiss. What’s wrong with kissing me?”  
“This evening was whatever I wanted, Brendon, unless you forgot.” He says.  
“No, I didn’t forget. You resisted me for 6 days.” I can feel myself regaining that confident composure, “You must have gotten off thinking about me. Now I’m here, yet you placed yourself in a wet dream remake. You can have me… take me all in. Why are you stopping yourself?”  
“If I kiss you, will you shut up?” He asks.  
I put on a cheeky smile, “Probably.”  
He puts out his blunt before getting onto the bed. I stretch my legs out and lean back when he hovers over me. His lips press against mine and my hand falls to the back of his head. It’s deep and rough, but that passion is there. Fuck, I missed this. His tongue slides in my mouth immediately and I let out a pleased noise. I daringly wrap my legs around his lower back just to keep him there.  
“Hey, c’mon.” He says, pushing back to get out of my grasp.  
I release him and he gets off of me. He then tosses my clothes at me and I nearly chuckle. I say, “You sure you want me to go?”  
“Don’t push this, Brendon.” It’s that serious tone again.  
The mood falls back down. “Okay.” I reply, proceeding to get my clothes on. All I can do is hold onto that kiss or else I would feel an ache I couldn’t prepare my legs to carry on the way back to my room.


	13. A Job

_Entry 7 ___  
_It’s been two days and I can still feel the phantom pain of those cuffs. He left me weary, and it was purposeful. I felt it in my chest every time I glanced in his direction yesterday (and today). Maybe I shouldn’t have let him do whatever he wanted to me. What’s done is done, but I hate this stain on my conscious. I haven’t even tried to kiss him, and he doesn’t care. It hurts, and I don’t understand why he won’t just… _  
__

____

__

____________I slam the pencil against the top of my drawer and close the notebook. All I ever do, as of late, is rant about him. I check my watch and sigh. I don’t want to bother with the evening meeting, but apparently everyone is required to show up tonight. I get up slowly and start to head over. I assume Dallon is already there considering he didn’t even bother to come back to the dorm. Sometimes I wish his absence would make me feel better, especially now.  
When I walk into the room, I see nearly everyone gathered, and I just decide to sit in the back. I can’t help staring at Ryan while he organizes the front desk. My fingers subtly brush against my wrists as watch him write something down. I chew the inside of my bottom lip, trying to sustain the memory. His eyes catch mine, and I can’t help but look away in defeat. As soon as Josh and Tyler arrive, Ryan starts the meeting.  
“We’re here to discuss Dallon’s upcoming job and whether or not he needs backup. Dallon.” He looks to the taller man.  
Dallon says, “One extra person will suffice.”  
“Brendon.” Ryan says.  
I feel an immediate knot in my stomach, “Hm?” is all I can get out.  
“It’s been awhile since you’ve had a job.” He says to me before looking back at Dallon, “Split the profit fifty-fifty, it’s time Brendon earns some money.”  
“Pardon me for questioning your judgments, Ryan, but I’ve been considering Frank-”  
“Ten thousand. Splitting the profit wouldn’t be necessary with Frank. You’ve been raking up enough cash lately, unless you plan on buying one hell of a new car.”  
“How I spend my money is personal.” Dallon says.  
The tension in the air is thick. Even though my nearly binding nerves, I can sense that this type of discourse rarely happens between them.  
“Brendon earning some cash would severe the tie of reliability with his parents. You’re taking him and splitting the profit. Have I made myself clear?” Ryan states.  
“Yes.” Dallon says. The tall man looks back to me with dead eyes and a slight frown.  
The room is so quiet before Ryan says, “Brendon.”  
“I, uh, yeah. That sounds good.”  
He gives me a soft nod. I slump further back into my chair, now processing what’s going to happen. Another kill. Fuck. My heart nearly races at the thought.  
“When will this be carried out?” Ryan asks Dallon.  
“Tomorrow.”  
I grip the edge of the table as my breath quickens. I fight my growing nerves as my chest proceeds to tighten. I count slowly in my head, 1-2-3...1-2-3.  
“What time?” The brown haired boy asks.  
“Nine on the dot.” Dallon replies.  
“Good.” Ryan says, “You two can discuss further details amongst yourselves.”  
I look at Dallon again and he has the same bothered expression. I get out a quick nod of acknowledgement in his direction. Fuck, I should have asked Frank for Xanax, although I have a feeling it would be too suspicious. He might assume that in taking anti-anxiety meds, I’m someone too vulnerable who can break. Gerard would most likely catch on first, however, considering he looks into people. I have no idea how many blunts I’d have to hit to ease whatever trauma I’ll endure tomorrow if it comes down to that. No... I know I can’t go into this without something strong. Dallon is the one person I can’t be too emotional in front of. Then I think about Josh and Tyler, the most “innocent” of the group. Tyler has a bunch of problems, maybe he has some sort of anti-anxiety meds.  
I get up and walk over to them.  
“Hey, guys.”  
They both greet me softly. They also seem a bit surprised that I’m taking the time to chat with them. Maybe they want me to leave them alone, who knows.  
I lower my voice, “Do either of you have a Xanax I could pop for tomorrow? Just want to be on top of my game. I wasn’t gifted with totally enjoying these things.” I softly laugh.  
“Oh yeah.” Josh says, “I can relate to that. I’ll give you my number, come by tomorrow after class.”  
“Awesome!” I say, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Never thought I would be this thrilled for medication. 

~~~

It’s silent between Dallon and I for the first half of the day, and I didn't really care. I struggled pushing through a borderline panic attack all morning, but thankfully exhaustion kicked in by the afternoon. When the last class is out, I check my phone to make sure I have Josh’s room number correct and start heading over to his dorm.  
I stand in front of his room and knock. Josh opens the door not too long after.  
Through a light smile, he says, “Come on in.”  
“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.” I say, as he opens a bag and takes out a bottle.  
“There’s a few left, I need to get more anyway.” He says, before handing the whole thing to me.  
“Awesome, thanks again.” I smile. Then I say, “Don’t mind if I take one here?”  
“That’s fine, I have a pack of water bottles in the fridge.” He says, before walking over to a mini fridge and retrieving a water.  
I open the bottle of pills hastily and take out one before screwing the cap back on and placing it in my pocket. I take the water from Josh and place the pill on the back of my tongue before washing it down.  
“See ya later.” I tell him. I add, “Tell Tyler I said hi!”  
“Will do.” Josh gives me a nod before I take my leave. 

~~~

It’s around 8 o’clock when Dallon comes back to the dorm.  
I swallow hard, looking at him, “So tonight.” I say.  
“Yeah.” He lets out a long breath, avoiding eye contact.  
“What’s the plan?” I ask.  
“The plan is you do as I say and don’t fuck up.” He states in a nearly aggressive tone.  
“Right.” Is the last thing I say before it all goes silent again. This is so awkward, because all I can think about is what Gerard and Frank said. Every time I open my mouth, I risk just blabbing about it now. Thirty minutes go by and I just try to fill the time with doing work and then continuously getting distracted by the internet.  
Dallon gets up, “We’re heading out now.”  
“O-okay.” I stutter. I shut my computer and grab my coat.  
“We need to get weapons.” He says, and I follow behind him as we get to the club door. He looks around before opening it and heading inside. As soon as I take one step in, he says, “Wait there.”  
So I do. I watch him open the door to the ‘armory’ and fill a medium sized duffel bag. I look back outside to see if anyone is around. There’s about 2 or 3 wandering students, but no campus police. Me just waiting outside the door would probably seem suspicious. Dallon is quick, though, as he walks out with the bag of weapons. We then head to the parking garage and get to his car. I’m floored noticing the vehicle is nearly the same make and model as Ryan’s. Once again, everything feels awkward. I sit uncomfortably in the passenger seat and we both stay silent. About 10 minutes in, I check my phone and notice a text from Ryan.  
_Come over after the job. ___  
A warm feeling sits in my stomach, although I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. Resisting the memories of that first time… no amount of practice could keep some of the images away. I don’t want this to be reminiscent, hell, it’s not the same. Besides, our relationship has developed. He wouldn’t… well. I reply:  
_Okay. ___  
I close my eyes for a moment. No, it’s not the same, but after recent events… things feel continuously unpredictable. I should be happy that he’s offering to give me attention. I should want it. I should hope that he can make me feel better. My chest hurts, or maybe I’m forcing it to feel this way. The drug is starting to kick in.  
We stop across the street near some hole in the wall diner. This whole area a town over gives me the creeps. Of course everything bad happens in a sketchy town. We get out of the car and Dallon hastily grabs the duffle bag from the back. We walk down the street a couple blocks before turning into a corner that’s a little too dark for comfort. There’s an eerie off yellow street light flickering as though it’s about to turn off. I hate this, objectively speaking with the lack of nerves. Dallon shifts his direction, making a slight right and we end up near some dumpster.  
“These men are smart. We take the weapons we need now, ditch the bag, come back for it if it starts going to hell.” He says while taking out a silencer. I dig around and take out a shotgun.  
“What are you doing?” Dallon says behind me.  
“I just thought-“  
“It’s too early for a loud weapon, dumbass.” He rips the gun from my hands and takes out a long blade instead.  
Another close proximity kill, great. The near drowsiness is what worries me. I might slip up tonight. Could I hit a target decently even if I had a gun instead? Doesn’t matter now. Hell, maybe this will be easier. The sound of an engine is heard, then silence. The taller man turns around and looks at me, “You’re keeping watch and taking care of the perimeter, I got the rest.”  
He looks down at his watch before walking away and heading into the building. I place myself a couple feet from the door and look around. I fucking hope no one else shows up. Of course I keep forgetting how much the guy’s head is worth, and that leaves me on edge just a bit. He probably has a bunch of men backing him up, and what, Dallon expects me to deal with all of that?  
All of the sudden, I see someone walking around a corner. I quickly tuck away the blade within the inside pocket of my coat. A fucking conveniency that it’s damn cold out, I wouldn’t know how else to hide this thing. My brain works as quick as it can, and I decide to play it dumb and act oblivious to my surroundings. I let my eyes catch the man’s as I comfortably lift my foot up to the back and have it sit against the wall. The soft waves of calm help me set up a cool demeanor.  
“Who are you?” The man says. He’s muscular and a few inches taller than me. His chest is puffed up as he holds a menacing glare.  
“I’m…” I look to the ground and try to think. Nearly drawing a blank, I let out the phrase, “whoever you want me to be.”  
“What?” His hand reaches behind his back.  
Quickly, I say, “Toss me a couple tens and I’ll get down on my knees for you.” I tilt my head slightly and lick my lips slowly.  
He hesitantly retracts his hand from his pocket as his expression softens, “You’re on the wrong side of town.”  
“And you look like you need some pressure eased.” I lightly bring my pointer finger near my mouth, running it across my lips while smirking.  
“Get out of here.” The man says, in a rather nice tone.  
“I’m desperate.” I say, gripping at his belt loops, “Just a bit more cash and I can make it till the end of the month.”  
“Whoa, Marcus.” Another man appears, “Who’s this?” He doesn’t hesitate taking out a gun.  
Marcus, as I now know his name, says, “Don’t waste a bullet, it’s just some male prostitute.”  
“Sympathizing for a fucking fairy now?” He spits, still aiming the gun at me.  
I begin to fake cry, ugly fake cry, yet try to keep my voice low, “Please don’t hurt me, I just want to pay my rent.”  
“Jerry, let him go.”  
“What, you think the little bitch won’t tell the cops?”  
While they’re both distracted with each other, I take out the blade and hastily sweep it across Marcus’ throat. Blood spews across my face. If my heart could race, it would, as the familiar scent of the warm liquid attacks my nostrils. Jerry pulls back up his gun and I duck down before shooting my leg out. My foot harshly collides with his crotch and he drops the gun. He doubles over in pain and I get a decently clear view of his back.  
Before I can ram the weapon into his skin, he grabs my leg and I fall to the floor. I nearly get the air knocked out of me because of the impact, but I keep a grip on the blade. I try to get up as fast as I can and swing carelessly in his direction, hoping I’ll hit him. I get too close at the wrong time and he hits the inside of my elbow, making me drop the blade. My eyes grow wide as his hands harshly grasp my coat. He rams me into the adjacent wall, and fuck, that hurt.  
“Mother fucker.” He curses, “Was gonna kill you fast.” He pulls me back just to shove me into the wall again. He then roughly flips me over, “You killed my partner.” One hand is left on my back, keeping me to the wall. I can hear the sound of a belt being pulled out of its loops.  
His uncomfortable breath is near my ear, “So I’m going to fuck you up first.”  
A dismal feeling piles up in my chest. He reaches around, trying to get at my belt. The forced whines from my act become a little more genuine as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. I try to push back, move, anything. It’s no use. Oh god, oh god.  
“This is what your fucking faggot ass wants, don’t it?” He says, tugging down my pants. I shut my eyes hard and prepare for the goddamn worst.  
But then the weight is off of me. I stumble away from the wall and turn around. Jerry’s dead eyes look into space with his pants to his knees and blood seeping from his skull. I look over and see Dallon slowly lowering his gun. I rush to get my own pants up and walk around Jerry’s body to retrieve my knife.  
Dallon says, “You’re lucky I finished taking care of the boss in time.”  
So cold, yet unsurprising. I don’t reply to that, and instead just say, “We calling the clean up crew or what?”  
“I did call them, they’re going to be late.” He opens the door completely and says, “Pick a body, bring it inside.”  
I pick up the ankles of the one who didn’t just try to sexually assault me and start pulling him inside the warehouse. He’s heavy, yet it’s manageable. The thought runs through my mind that I’m literally carrying dead weight. It would have been funny in any other scenario, presumably fictional, and if I wasn’t involved.  
As soon as Dallon gets inside with the other body, I say, “If they’re going to be late, what are we going to do?”  
He says, “Start their job to save them time.”  
“What does that mean?” I ask.  
“We cut up the bodies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I suck????? I got caught up doing a digital book cover for a friend and I went to a concert last night. Thankfully part 2 of this chapter should be up waaaayy sooner. I've been working on it!


	14. Dark Passenger Pay-Off

“Cut up the bodies?” I repeat Dallon’s words in the form of a question under my breath.  
He gives me a look before saying, “I’ll get the weapons.” as he proceeds to leave the room.  
I’m left alone with the corpses. It’s eerie, yet calm. It’s also starting to smell, and I know I’m bound to get queasy. Dallon gets back with the bag and sets it on the ground.  
He says, “I would have forgot you were even out there if it wasn’t for your irritating whines.” He shakes his head, shuffling through the bag, “When Ryan finds out you’re a goddamn pussy, you’ll be out-”  
“I was acting, Dallon!”  
He points a long blade in my direction, jabbing it in the air against some of his words to enunciate his anger, “You should have stabbed them immediately.”  
“Sorry.” I say, sheepishly.  
He calms down just enough to instruct me on how to chop up a body without making a mess. He says, “Fresh ones are the most at risk to bleed out like a faucet.”  
I’m already covered in it, I’m sure watching it pour out more won’t faze me at least in this state.  
Before we get to work, he says, “Take off the shirt and pants. Clothing gets in the way of a clean separation.”  
“Right.” I say, hesitating before dragging the shirt and pants off of Marcus. Putrid smells emit from him and I just about gag on the spot. His once light colored underwear is dampened by various bodily fluids.  
“Goddamn.” I say, covering my nose.  
Dallon snickers, “You didn’t know people piss and shit themselves when they die?”  
A grimace is plastered on my face, “Just forgot.” I lie. Of all the times I’ve gone to the strange places of the internet, I was never fascinated by what happens when someone dies. Now I know, up close and personal.  
I’m so nonchalant hovering over this dead body. I place the blade just under the kneecap and double-check that the location is just right. I take a deep breath and slam the blade downward. In the blink of an eye, the leg is separated from the body. Clean cut. I can see the inside of the leg and my stomach starts to turn. I try to keep it together when I remove the second leg.  
I fucking wish I had some kind of mask to cover my face. The smell is almost potent, and my eyes are watering. The endless amount of bloody flesh surrounding me is nearly pushing me to the edge. No pill could dampen this nightmare material. I try to figure out a way to distract myself. I look over at Dallon. The one thing sitting in the back of my mind decides to spill from my mouth.  
“Dallon, it doesn’t have to be so tense.” I hold back a gag, “and awkward between us.”  
He looks up from a partially severed body with a subtle gawking stare.  
“The whole thing with Ryan, I know the story and I get why you-”  
“Shut the fuck up.” He curses.  
“Whoa, hey I’m sorry, man. It’s just, things are what they are and I don’t want it to be weird.”  
“Stop.”  
“Okay.” I sigh.  
Before I even contemplate another word, I feel lunch coming up my throat. I stand up and rush over to nowhere in particular to spill my guts. I stay hunched over for a good few seconds, trying not to look too long at my regurgitated food. My hands are shaky when I wipe my mouth. I can feel Dallon’s eyes on me. I glance over to him and he looks so mad. His attention goes to his phone, though, as I hear it vibrate in his pocket.  
He checks a text before saying, “They’ll be here any minute, let’s go.”  
We get to the car and I remember there’s still blood on my face. After Dallon places the bag in the trunk, I look to see if he has any water bottles or really anything to clean myself up. I can’t go onto campus looking like this, especially not when I see Ryan. I see something of the plastic sort near the back and I reach in quickly. I take out an unopened water.  
I look to Dallon, “You don’t mind, right?” I crack it open before he can say anything next.  
He replies, “Whatever.”  
I pour some water into the palm of my hand and splash it on my face. I use the sleeves of my coat to get dry. Dallon starts to get in his car, so I cap off the water and get in the passenger seat. The car ride back is awkward and silent. I smell bad. When this Xanax wears off I’ll probably lose my mind and pop another pill. I take out my phone when we’re close and reply to Ryan.  
_I’ll be there soon, although I need a quick shower. ___  
By the time we get to campus, I check my phone again. He replies:  
_Use mine. The door is unlocked. ___  
I reply:  
_Okay. ___  
I don’t tell Dallon why I trail away from him. Hell, he can probably already guess where I’m going. I keep my coat collars up and absentmindedly lower my head, still feeling like there’s some blood somewhere. I keep a quick pace till I manage to get to his door. I knock once before opening it and stepping inside. I see Ryan by his bed putting some notebooks away. He turns around and gives me a small smirk.  
“Hey.” He says. There’s a dark look within his hazel eyes when he approaches me.  
“Hey.” I finally manage to get out.  
His fingers grip at the edges of my coat. I tell him, “It might be damp, I had to get some blood off my face-”  
His thumb drags down the bottom of my lip and I let my mouth hang agap. He says, “Take off your clothes, I’ll run the water for you.”  
“O-okay.” I stutter.  
If I had to picture a set of feelings amongst my lack of them, I would think a great deal of nervousness would be present. He looks like he wants me, and I know I’m exhausted. My chest doesn’t tighten, the physical certainty of anything bad is lost. All I can contemplate is if maybe this will be fine… maybe… it’s just a maybe. I set the water bottle down and kick off my shoes. I slip off my clothes slowly and walk into the bathroom.  
Ryan slips his own shirt over his head. I blink a few times, just watching him. I feel frozen in my tracks. He directs me to the shower by signaling his hand, “After you.”  
I just nod before stepping under the warm water. I stay facing the showerhead, letting the stream coat my face. I rub my cheeks and run my fingers through my hair. I gather some water in my mouth and spit it out, just having a feeling Ryan might kiss me when he steps in. I then notice the shower curtain waver a bit and soon enough feel hands on my shoulders. I could imagine a chill running up my spine if the water wasn’t so warm.  
He massages me firmly and I let my eyes shut for a moment. Even though the job is done, my head is still swimming. The images are engraved in the back of my skull. Every bone crack haunts my ears in a repeating echo. The different weight of each limb is burned into my fingertips, knit around my muscles casting up my arms. The tendons and veins… flesh… wrapped around that white marrow. The contrast is so haunting. My stomach still aches and my throat still burns from the aftermath of practically inhaling piss, shit, and blood.  
Ryan asks, “How was the job tonight?”  
“Uh, messy. Exhilarating. We had to cut the bodies up.”  
Ryan lets out a low hum that echoes through the room. He starts to really touch me now, and I begin to get hard. The sensual atmosphere, I want to take it in just to escape my mind. I can feel his erection pressed against the back of my leg. He starts kissing my neck as his hands run across my body. His fingers trace my figure before exclusively falling down my back. He cups my ass and a noise escapes my lips. I feel his fingers teasing the outside of my entrance. I exhale deeply, thinking that I won’t mind his fingers inside me. But he doesn’t do that… he removes his hand and I can feel his cock just about to press in. I move forward as much as I can, like a knee-jerk reaction.  
“Please don’t… don’t!” The extra plea results from him trying to pull me back in. He lets me go. My eyes are wide, looking down at the rushing water. If I could feel elated from him accepting the rejection, I would. It startles me again when his hands fall gently on my shoulders. His touch is much more kind and slow.  
He says, “I remember the first time I cut up a body. That night I took a cold shower and struggled to fall asleep. I get it.” He physically encourages me to turn around so the soap could run off my body. He suds my chest quickly before setting the bar down and pulling me in for a kiss. I’m timid with it, because I swear I still have a bad taste in my mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind, making the kiss deeper.  
His hand snakes around my cock, “This okay?” He says, moving his fist up and down.  
I just nod, because I love how it feels, of course I do. I touch him as well and our breaths shutter as our lips lie close. Lazy kisses and an inconsistent pattern of stroking commences for a while before we both come. We switch places after I get the rest of the soap off and I offer to wash his back. I take a long look at the marks on his body, and I guess he notices.  
“No, it’s fine.” He takes the soap from me, “Go dry off.”  
So I step out of the shower, placing a fresh towel around my waist. The mirror is fogged up. The blurry figure staring back at me is a comfort. If I could see myself now… I couldn’t imagine how afraid I’d be.  
I walk out of the bathroom and as soon as I feel dry enough, I stare at my clothes. It wouldn’t feel right slipping them back on, the blood stains make me cringe. Ryan soon enough gets out and I just stay seated on the side of his bed.  
He starts to get dressed, and I say, “I would put back on my clothes, but they’re so dirty.”  
“Here.” He says, digging around in his drawers, “I think we’re about the same size anyway.” He tosses me a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  
“Thanks.” I say, starting to get dressed myself. I like the smell of Ryan’s shirt as I pull it over my head.  
He turns to me and says, “See you later.”  
I stand up, “Oh, yeah for sure.” I pick up my coat and fold it up a bit so I can carry it easier. Then I grab the water bottle from the floor. I don’t mind him kicking me out this time. I just want to get some sleep and hope I don’t have nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lying piece of shit, I'm so sorry guys. The holiday season totally distracted my brain from wanting to write about cutting up bodies. It may be a thing that I might take longer to upload, I hope y'all don't mind. This fic will get finished, I won't leave you guys hanging, I promise!


	15. Sympathy and Sanity

I wake up in a cold sweat, an urge to vomit plunges up my throat. All the images from last night rush through my brain as I get up to the bathroom and regurgitate some mucus. The urge to cry is prevalent and I feel tense all over. Thank god I shut the door, Dallon would have been staring at me. I bite my bottom lip so hard it could bleed. I curse internally, remembering I left the rest of Josh’s pills in my coat pocket. I couldn’t sporadically jump out and take one… fuck. I sit on the floor and bring my knees to my chest just trying to breathe. My face aches as hot tears fall. I rock back and forth in a non distinct rhythm.   
There’s a single harsh knock on the door with Dallon’s voice saying, “Hurry up, I gotta piss.”  
I jump to my feet instantly, “Uh, yeah one sec.” My voice cracks strangely. I could kick myself if I wasn’t in a hurry. I turn on the faucet and run the water for a second, splashing my face. I hardly look at the reflection staring back at me as I quickly dry off and open the door.   
Dallon stands there, seemingly irritated. I just say, “All yours.” with a forced smile.   
I check the time and it’s around 4AM. I’m definitely not going back to sleep. While Dallon is in the bathroom, I pop a Xanax and crawl back into bed. I take out my phone and just try to distract myself with a game.   
Ten minutes of Solitaire go by. Dallon is asleep again, and I’m starting to feel okay. The one person heavily on my mind is Patrick. I switch to my contacts and select the contact ‘P’ and start typing.   
_Hey, I think talking would be a good idea. I had a job last night. ___  
I don’t even think about if he decides to get up on my case and criticize me again. It’s just getting worse. Then I think about Ryan and find that fear in the back of brain screaming that he isn’t a calm amongst the storm. If I wasn’t on drugs last night and still saw him… it’s the one thing I can’t seem to contemplate. Being out of my mind near him is something I can’t risk. And it isn’t on him… it’s me. That fear of tearing down my facade; breaking. I can’t trust myself enough to open up like that yet. Maybe sometime it will be okay...  
I don’t remember dozing off, but the light on my screen causes my eyes to open. It’s Patrick’s reply:  
 _Yes, okay. Meet me by parking lot C at 4. ___  
I hear scuffling from the other side of the room and quickly delete the messages before shutting off my phone. I flip over and look at Dallon, which wasn’t the best idea.  
His eyes lock onto mine and I awkwardly say, “Good morning.”   
He gets out of bed, already dressed, avoiding eye contact, “Ten percent.”   
I keep my eyes in his direction, “What?”   
He looks back, “You only get ten percent of the money, not fifty.”   
“Oh.” I think about it for a second. I’m more so curious about Dallon’s defiance and less upset about only getting a thousand bucks, “Won’t Ryan find out?”  
“Reassure him that you got the money.” He says.   
“Okay.” I reply.   
He seems genuinely confused by my compliance, but still holds his guard up, “Good.”   
He continues to get his shoes on and I check the time. It’s 8am on a Saturday. I just stay seated up in bed until Dallon finally leaves.   
It’s hard not to think about last night; it strikes my nerves like a gentle breeze. I can focus on my homework decently enough. After awhile, I take a break to watch some tv. I mostly channel surf. Nothing good is ever on before 8pm, but I want to distract my mind for once. My excessive obsession with continuously reflecting on the terrible things I’ve done might very well lead me to losing my mind. Ryan barely keeps me safe, although it’s odd that he isn’t running rampant in my mind.   
I spent the beginning of my weekend just doing homework. Truly a blessing in disguise in terms of distraction. I’m starting to think that maybe I’ll manage to pass my classes this time around. Momentary wishful thinking, sure, but sanity seems to be wearing thin.   
By the time it’s three-thirty, I slowly put my stuff away and get my shoes on. I head out the door and make my way to parking lot C. Seeing Patrick in the daytime in a seemingly normal setting is almost peaceful. I wait around for a few minutes, absentmindedly rolling a couple loose pieces of paper in my pocket. He eventually shows up and walks over to me with a weary look in his eyes.   
“You had a job yesterday. Want to talk about it?” He asks.   
“Clearly.” I say, although I don’t mean to come off rude, “Yeah.”   
He crosses his arms, “So what happened?”   
“Um…” I start, letting the gruesome pictures flip through my brain, “It was Dallon’s job, actually. Ryan sent me along with him to earn some money.”   
“So it was a bounty?” Patrick asks.   
“Yeah. Dallon did the heavy lifting, I just took care of some of the guy’s henchmen or whatever.”   
“Right. I couldn’t imagine it was easy, but…”   
“No, it was fucked. It was… bad.”  
Patrick steps closer, “How so?”   
“I had to… cut one up.”   
Patrick recoils slightly, throwing a hand up to his mouth, “Oh god.”   
I just nod, not sure if I have anything else further to say.   
“I’m sorry.” He looks down as though he’s picturing what I could have gone through. I doubt he could. Unless Pete went through something similar… that just makes me more curious about him. Granted I never had the time to really get to know Pete after he found me quickly distasteful for my choices. It doesn’t upset me compared to Patrick’s attitude for some reason. There’s a layer that hasn’t been peeled back yet. Maybe sometime I’ll ask. Hell… maybe I’ll see Pete again and we’ll take the time to understand each other.   
“Well, at least I can pop some pills to act stable.” I say.  
“You’re taking meds? What kind- from who?”  
“Xanax from Josh.”  
Patrick nods understandingly, “That’s definitely a way to get through it. Don’t ever heavily medicate with a variety of substances. Just screws you over more.”   
“Right.” I reply. Whether or not I take that advice is debatable.   
It’s silent for a while.   
Patrick speaks up, “Pete always told me that it doesn’t get easier. There’s no way to sugar coat any of this. I’m sorry…”   
“Sorry for what?”   
“For being an asshole. I can tell these things are fucking you up, which is good. It means you have some humanity in you.”   
I chuckle, “Right.”   
Patrick places a hand on my shoulder. I don’t push him away, taking in the seriousness of the moment.   
“You’re not a bad person, that’s what’s important.” He puts his hand down, “Fuck your bizarre choices, you know? I’ve never forgiven anyone easily until I know they’re sane. You need someone to be here, and I won’t go anywhere. Okay?”   
“Yeah.” I nod softly. There’s a pull on my chest. That less-alone type feeling.   
Patrick checks his watch before saying, “I gotta go. Take care of yourself.”   
“I’ll try.” I finish, watching him take his leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a fuckin asshole, I'm so sorry you guys. I never take this long to update, and I apologize that it's so short and kinda shitty. Life has been pretty busy lately. I have a boyfriend and I've been taking college classes. Homework is a thing. My new relationship bringing me some joy is a thing. I'm not in that angsty depressed mood all the time to really get back into the zone of writing this, which is kinda sucky. Also pretty wild. I'm not sure when I can update next due to my schedule, but I promise that I will not abandon this. I love this fic to pieces and I know how it ends. You guys are fuckin rockstars for sticking around. Thank y'all so so so so much <3.

**Author's Note:**

> Brendon's journal entries will also somehow be implemented in this story (aka the journals he writes throughout this college journey lol)!!! Idk how it's gunna work out cuz this is my first fic on this site, but ye.


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